


Blind Search

by gatekat, Starsheild (StarRise)



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Mech Preg, Past Abortion, Spark Sex, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 09:22:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3244436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gatekat/pseuds/gatekat, https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarRise/pseuds/Starsheild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jazz and Prowl are casual lovers, right up to when Jazz finds himself carrying Prowl's bitlit. Then out of love for Prowl, Jazz sets off to disapear and find a sire for his creation that won't be there just for sense of duty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Pleasurable Touch

Jazz's helm fell back with a deep moan as the first tendrils from his spark connected with Prowl's. He'd never tire of this intimacy and the purity of the pleasure. Sure, the one time Prowl had allowed a hardline it had literally blown Jazz' circuits, but Jazz had been all too aware of how much of a strain it was for Prowl to keep the protective programs in check so they didn't do permanent damage. It was the first and last time Jazz had ever asked. Besides, this was pure bliss for them both and way better than anything else they'd tried. Sure, Prowl was damn was damn good with spike, valve, mouth and hands. Plenty of mecha would indulge in casual interface, but for most, casual did not include sparks. For that matter, Jazz's definition of casual only covered sparks when it came to Prowl. The mech was just ... different.

The spark that touched his own was so different from the mech that many saw on the surface. Intense and focused, yes, but in a way that was as far from cold and stiff as could be. Passion and drive lived in the ice-blue spark, along with a level of care that Jazz was careful to only acknowledge lived here. It made merging intense, driving them both as Jazz welcomed the energy, his spark dancing back in reply.

In many ways, Jazz was grateful that Prowl wanted this, that Prowl was so addicted to spark merging that he'd do it outside of a committed relationship. There was no question in Jazz's mind that he wouldn't be nearly so loyal or protective of the key to Autobot survival if he hadn't been granted access to exactly what Prowl was at spark.

A shared shiver passed through them, rippling their armor as the charge build.

Jazz settled deeper in the Praxian's lap, bringing frame physically closer and sparks deeper in turn. Secrets, thoughts, those were not part of this pleasure. Just emotion, and some insights into the what drove a mech, what lay under the processors and the social coding that often ruled the orn to orn functioning.

He groaned as the push was welcomed and returned, sparks pulsing against each other in a unique sort of friction that sent energy through and around them. Energy that was read as heat and pleasure and so much more by frame and processor.

It was perfect. Flawless in a way Jazz barely dared contemplate. It pulled thoughts to the fore of what it might be like to merge deeper, to have someone he trusted that completely and surrender himself to it.

Surrender.

It was an addiction he knew they shared. Out in the world they both had to have absolute self control. Lives, even the fate of worlds and their race depended on their ability to do the necessary thing without thought to personal consequences. It left them both desperate to be held, cared for and tended to when they didn't have any choices to make. So they traded off being in charge and giving the other a break. When Prowl made their berth choices, it was always this.

So Jazz drew him in, pulling with his spark, drawing the deep part of Prowl out. This was what the Praxian needed, wanted, and Jazz had come to enjoy giving it to him very much.

With a gasp he closed the final distance between them to trigger the overload they both sought. The whiteout surged outward from their sparks, consuming them both in its intensity.

The smaller mech booted first, blue visor coming online as he leaned against the Praxian. With a contented purr Jazz stroked the still warm frame of the other, feeling through meshed fields as Prowl's systems booted and came online one by one.

This was always enjoyable too, feeling and teeking and touching his off-line lover as he booted smoothly and pleasantly. For Jazz, Prowl was even better than most, as Prowl took a long time to fully boot thanks to his incredibly large memory banks, multiple processors, extensive protocols and coding, and of course, that tac-net that made him so valuable to the cause. That Prowl trusted him like this was a huge ego boost on top of it all, even if Jazz only allowed himself to smile smugly about it and never spoke of the privileges he was allowed that no one else was.

"Feel better?" He asked softly, frame still lax, as he felt Prowl approach mostly booted, and knew that the Praxian was at least coherent of where he was and who he was with by this stage. That was part of what made this work. Prowl had never spoken of his lovers and made it clear to Jazz before their first tryst that he expected to be on Jazz's silent list. That Prowl even knew Jazz had a silent list, lovers whom he never spoke of, told Jazz plenty about how well researched he'd been before Prowl approached him.

"Yes," Prowl purred and snuggled close, his hands sliding along Jazz's back slowly with gentle affection. "Did you enjoy yourself?"

"Always do with you." Jazz said honestly, laughing softly as he snuggled closer, enjoying the warm affection. The small price of being with Prowl was nothing compared the peace and calm he felt afterward.

"Good," Prowl murmured, field and frame also radiating his contentment as they simply held there, enjoying the afterglow they enjoyed far too rarely. Just for Prowl's field to be relaxed enough to teek was a sign of either intense duress or great peace and Jazz was always proud to be the cause of the peace. "When do you need to leave?"

"Not for a while. I managed to clear my schedule pretty good this time. Short of an emergency," and that was a possibility for either of them at any time, with the current circumstances. "no one is expecting me until tomorrow morning."

Prowl's purred deepened its contented harmonics. "Then you can stay?"

"I was hoping you would ask." Jazz purred in return. Recharges that he was able to share with Prowl after a merge were often the most restful ones anymore, and he never passed one up without a very good reason.

"Good," Prowl repeated before shifting to nudge Jazz to lay down and make himself comfortable and feel secure before Prowl settled against his back with one arm draped over Jazz's middle.

Oh yes, there were a great many perks to this arrangement, Jazz decided as he settled and allowed his systems to begin shutting down, savoring the peaceful slowness of falling into a real recharge without worry or tension.

* * *

Jazz might have been cheery on the surface, but he was anything but cheery underneath. The facade dropped as soon as he was safe in the domain of Special Operations. He hated seeing medics. Any sort of medic. But for the last few orns he had been feeling off. Acutely aware of his frame, spark and energy, he knew something wasn't right. He was lagging when he should be at the top of his game, and he needed to know why.

Cue appointment with whichever of the SpecOp medics that was in that orn. Or both of them. Sometimes they liked to mess with a mech's processor like that. It was a medic thing, but it was also a twins thing. 

"Welcome to my parlor. What brings you?" Medice smiled at him when he stepped inside the evenly but moderately lit room. Unlike the medical realm above, this one was designed to put mecha who literally existed in shadows just a little bit at ease.

"Something's off." Jazz informed her as he hopped up on one of the exam tables without waiting for direction. "Reaction time lagging, little higher energy demands for normal tasks, and wantin' energon." 

"For how long? Did anything immediately precede it?" she asked as she gathered her scanners.

"Just the last few orns. Not really. Went on that short mission a decaorn ago, but nothing happened. You were even the one that cleared me. Just normal functionin' and trainin' since then." 

Medice nodded and began with the basic scans. "Have you interfaced with anyone new?"

"Not really. Usual partners all around. Mostly spike/valve play. Couple hardline. One sparkmerge. All regulars for at least a vorn. Most have been regulars for decades." Jazz said, checking back through his memory files just to be sure.

Medice hummed, then ran a few more scans. "Who was the spark merge with?"

Even here Jazz hesitated for a moment to reveal the truth, but finally he sighed. "Prowl."

"Tactical SIC?" she asked, even though Jazz knew it was clear in the designation exactly who Prowl was. He was saved from doing more than nodding when Larua walked in looking a bit miffed. Medice simply handed her one of the scanners and watched as it was run again.

With a silent sigh Jazz submitted to the second round of scans. There was no point in arguing with the pair. That was a lesson that had been drilled into him the orn he met them, and one he had never forgotten. Being helplessly left lying on a medical table with his processor fully functioning but his frame out of his control when he had back-talked had been a very effective lesson. And one that had only needed to be delivered once. 

"Have you mentioned your condition to Prowl?" Larua asked him calmly.

"Nah? Why?" Jazz asked, looking at her oddly. "I haven't seen the mech since before I left on that last mission."

"Good. That makes this easier," the pair relaxed slightly. "Just lay back and expose your spark. It'll be over with in a klik."

"Why?" Jazz demanded, suddenly wary and tense. If they wanted to do something to his spark, he was going to know ahead of time. He didn't care who it was giving the orders. 

"Your kindling inhibitor failed. We need to terminate the newspark and repair the inhibitor," Larua explained while Medice collected tools.

There was an entire klik of silence as Jazz processed what she had said.

"Pit no!" The explosive denial was accented by action, the small mech flying off the berth and in the direction of the exit reflexively. 

"Hay!" Larua yelled at him even as she locked the door and pinged for both security and the base SpecOps commander.

"Calm down," Medice ran towards him, then stopped as he whirled on them when the door wouldn't open. "It's nothing serious, Jazz. A simple procedure with no ill effects. You'll be out within a breem."

"Not again." Jazz growled, claws extended and posture threatening as he faced off against the pair. "Not again."

Memories overlaid the present. Another lover. Another time. Another newspark. Another procedure.

And the _loss_ he had felt, even though according to everyone he wouldn't notice when it was gone.

"Not again." 

Those two words seemed to still the pair and they both took a couple steps back before lifting their hands in appeasement.

"All right Jazz," Larua said calmly, her tones the soothing harmonics of a medic in full crisis mode. "Just relax. We won't force you. You do need to speak with Scuttlebutt however. A carrier is required to be on light duty and under additional restrictions."

"Sure. Okay. But he stays over there." Jazz's helm jerked in the direction of the far end of the room, well away from him. "And both of ya, as well." 

"Very well," a shadow of a giant frame, a host with four cassettes, spoke from where he seemed to materialize where Jazz demanded him to be. The medics also backed away. "Now Jazz, you intend to bring this newspark into the world. I can see that clearly. How do you intend to perform both duties to the cause and to your creation?"

"I'll figure somethin' out." Jazz rumbled, already planning. Ideas chased through his processor, everything from resigning- however dishonorable it might have him labeled- to finding a worthy co-creator that could manage a support network without giving them away. 

Scuttlebutt regarded him and Jazz could feel the touch of the telepath's mind against his. It remained fairly close to the surface however, never delving deep enough to try and change anything. "What of Prowl?"

"Not going to tell him." Jazz decided, not even really having to think about it. "At worst, he'll want it terminated. At best, he'll feel obligated to provide for it."

Jazz had seen into the Praxian's spark. Prowl was sparked, a mech brought into functioning for a purpose. He had a purpose now, one that kept him well occupied and largely content. Creating, raising a kindled spark, the idea would most likely cause one of Prowl's rare glitches. Even if it didn't, it would throw the well-ordered mech's existence into chaos, something the sector could hardly afford.

Scuttlebutt nodded slowly. "Familiarize yourself with the rules, regulations and expectations for carriers, both within Ops and in the general ranks. Decide your fate and speak with me in the morning."

"Right. First thing." Jazz promised, knowing that he was not going to get any recharge that night after he escaped medical and locked himself in his quarters.

Alone. He needed to think. To plan. And maybe even do something he hadn't since his family had been killed- offer a prayer to Primus. 

* * *

Iacon.

Jazz looked around as he departed the shuttle, hanging back in line like the non-combatant data-encryption specialist he was now. It was his cover for the foreseeable future, and the price for keeping the newspark orbiting his own. Just how long he'd be punished by remaining a non-combatant data-encryption specialist depended on what he ultimately decided to do with the sparkling. If he gave it up he could be back at his real job in a vorn. If he raised it he'd be stuck here for at least a couple centuries, if not the full three for it to reach its majority. If he was out for that long he'd get to enjoy at least a couple vorns of retraining and assessments.

"Relay!" a deep, commanding voice barked.

"Sir." He responded reflexively, turning in the direction of the voice and immediately zeroed in on a heavy field medic frame in classic white and red. ID came up as Ratchet, the CMO of the base, and the army. Former Physician of the Prime. 

"With me," the medic ordered and turned to leave.

New base, new place, and for the time being a new life. Best not to make waves just yet. His file said he was competent and not a trouble maker, though he partied more than his former boss really cared for.

Given his current condition, this was a mech whose good side Jazz wanted to be on as he jogged to catch up, stopping a stride behind to avoid stepping on the larger mech's heels. This close Jazz could teek the edge of the medic's field, and he relaxed a little. Business-like and non-threatening at the moment, it made following Ratchet across the landing field to clearly marked medical hanger easier. 

"On the berth," Ratchet motioned to one that was more out of the way than most. "Any changes since you were diagnosed?"

"Nope." Jazz said as he hopped up, obedient but still a little wary as he watched the medic. The first sign of a threat and he was gone. All he knew of the medic was what was in his file, so Jazz had no reason to trust him. 

"Good," Ratchet nodded. "I want my own scans since you'll be in my care for the rest of the carry, and I expect your bitlet will be in my charge as well."

"Just scans?" Jazz said, craning his helm for a better look at the tool in Ratchet's hands. 

"Yes, just scans," Ratchet scowled and showed Jazz the device in his hand. "When was your bitlet threatened?"

"Not here." Jazz said, looking up as he finally settled back on the berth. "You're not going to tell me to terminate it." He commented as he watched Ratchet. 

"Decidedly not," the medic rumbled and began to scan. "Even if you wanted to, it's outside my coding to perform the procedure. Is this your first carry?"

Unease rippled through the dark blue mech on the berth, optics watching the scanner. "Not...really." Jazz finally admitted. His first instinct had been to lie, to say yes, but if there was any complication that could have been caused by the termination of that first first spark so long ago, he needed to know, and so did Ratchet. 

The medic abruptly softened, understanding caressing Jazz from the normally stern field. "Was it a natural miscarriage?"

"No." Quiet admittance of something that on a deep level, Jazz had never forgiven himself for. No matter how much he wanted to blame some other factor- his lover, his youth, culture- it always came back around to the fact that he had _agreed_ to allow it to happen. 

"I'm sorry," Ratchet's tone was soft, his field genuine. "I promise you that I'll do all I can to have this sparkling come out healthy. Is the sire in the picture?"

"No." Jazz said, actually smiling a little as the tension in frame finally started to ease with the medic's promise. "He's a good mech." he added, quick to defend Prowl. "But this would be too much for him. I chose not to tell him. He has no idea." 

"Will you tell me so I can pull his medical history for anything important? Granted most issues are frame-related, but it would be good to know if he's known to have a strong or weak spark, and what his gift is, if anything," Ratchet said as he put the scanner away.

"Confidential? Completely." Jazz asked, needing to know on several levels. He needed Prowl to not find out. He needed this to not trace back to his real designation.

"As secure as you want it to go," Ratchet promised as he produced a form.  


"He's sparked. And he does have a history of glitches, but they're all related to special systems." Jazz said, wondering if that would be enough. 

"Which, since he won't be a frame donor, won't be relevant," Ratchet nodded, then regraded Jazz and subspaced the form. "That can likely be enough, so long as there are no abnormalities in the sparkling's development."

"If there are, I'll tell." Jazz promised. He wanted this spark, needed it. He was going to do nothing that would jeopardize it if he could help it. "How do things look so far?" He asked as he set up on the berth, swinging around so that his legs hung over the side, kicking slowly. 

"It's strong and stable for its age. I expect the sire had a stronger than average spark," Ratchet actually smiled. "Unless a sire comes into the picture to help you with construction and energy needs, you'll need to take supplements to prepare your frame for the drain that is coming with construction. Stay put and I'll bring you a decaorn's worth."

"Not going anywhere." Jazz promised, field fluttering a little with excitement now that he was around someone who seemed to be positive about the fact that he was carrying. "Any chance that these taste good?" He called after Ratchet. "I've taken some in the past that really spoil a mech's energon."

"Depends on the prep," Ratchet called back before disappearing for a moment. He returned with a box in hand and gave it to Jazz. "Are you much of a cook?"

"Not really." Jazz admitted as he took the box, looking it over before subspacing it. "So just going to have to choke them down? I can handle it." 

"Or see what kind of deal you can cut with someone who can cook," Ratchet suggested and pinged a list of those he knew were willing to do so for a reasonable deal. "Not all of them demand credits either, if you don't mind trading a favor for a favor."

"I'll look in to that." Jazz agreed, saving the list to compare to the files at his disposal. "Anything else I should know about around here? Never been to Iacon before."

While _that_ was a lie, it was something a new-comer would ask, and Jazz was interested in any insight that Ratchet would have. He was already starting to lean toward liking the medic, and not just because he was willing to look after Jazz and the newspark. The mech had the teek and speak of being bluntly honest, a rarity in Jazz's line of work.

"I don't recommend going into the city itself alone, especially not in your condition," Ratchet turned serious. "Despite our best efforts, there are too many Con sympathizers for it to be safe for a lone Autobot. That said, there are always groups headed to most destinations most orns, so it's not hard to hook up with a group going where you want to. Just stay away from the bars. Getting overcharged or drugged up is bad for the bitlet." He pinged Jazz the electronic board where the base organized outings and posted requests. "That's social central if you don't round up a gang in a rec room or your office."

"Noted." Jazz nodded, a genuine smile on his face as he integrated that as well. While he was going to have a full work load while he was here, it was also supposed to be rather regular, meaning that he would have time to be a real social mech for a change. "Speaking of my condition, is there anyone on base I should avoid?" 

"Anyone overcharged, especially the combat troops," Ratchet gave a thoughtful hum. "Don't hesitate to yell that you're a carrier if you get cornered. Even if it doesn't get through to whoever's after you, others are far more likely to come to your defense. Mostly, try not to be a jerk and don't pick fights."

"Good thing that's never been my idea of fun. When do you wanna see me back? Surprised you were waiting on me." He paused, suddenly curious. "Are there any other carriers on base now?" 

"Not that I know of," Ratchet shook his helm. "Your condition is a bright spot in a schedule of repairing idiots. I'm actually looking forward to seeing you once a decaorn."

"Then I'll do my best to make the visit nice for ya Doc, and try not to see ya for any other reason then bein' social." Jazz promised. "Soon as I can report in and get my schedule. Assuming you told command you were pullin' me before I reported?" 

"Of course," Ratchet snorted. "Longsteam knows why you were transferred here too. I think he's just glad he's getting a good skillset while you're here. Now, any questions before you get going?"

"Not really, and I got your comm if something does come up. Next stop is finding out where I'm bunking and who I'm sharing space with, if you're done with me." Jazz said as he slid from the berth. 

"I'm done. Get going and get your recharge. If Longsteam or anyone gives your grief about sticking strictly to a single shift per orn, comm me," Ratchet said firmly.

"'Sir!" The blue mech chirped, throwing Ratchet a wave as he bounced out of the room. Relay had a reputation for being easy-going, and Jazz was willing to play that up as much as possible while he was here.

A quick ping pulled up the location of the main office where he needed to report, making that his first stop. Then, barring any unusual orders, fuel and recharge were next on the list, per medical orders.

He could get to like this functioning. At least short term. 


	2. Prowling Options

Prowl tapped a stylus against his lower lip plate. He was supposed to be working on the patrol and duty rosters, but in truth he'd finished them three breems before. With half a joor still left on his shift, there was nothing to do but think about other things. Chief among them were his lack of companionship since Jazz had broken it off and then transferred away, though what frustrated him even more was the fact that he didn't have enough work to do stationed here to distract him from Jazz's absence.

It was time to arrange for a transfer up the chain of command again. At least in Iacon he'd be guaranteed plenty of work and he'd have access to the Prime along with the full war effort. It made his code twitch at having such rank, he hadn't been made to advance that far, but it was far better than being bored and underutilized. With that to plan he finally submitted the rosters and schedules, the process so routine it was automatic.

Jazz had given no reason for breaking off their arrangement, just saying that it needed to happen and that it had nothing to do with Prowl. The end of the message had even contained a sincere note of thanks for the time they had spent together. Prowl estimated that it was because Jazz had been assigned a long term undercover mission, which also went with the lack of transfer orders despite the lack of the mech being on base. It was possible they would meet again. Jazz was a rising star in Special Operations, much as Prowl was in Tactical. If they both survived it was almost guaranteed that they would both be among the Prime's command officers in time.

For now, however, Prowl had to face the unwelcome task of finding a replacement lover. It was yet another reason to put in the transfer request to Iacon. The options here were limited, and most of them that Prowl had not rejected outright he had ended up passing by for other reasons. Still, at least he could give his social protocols some work to do before he faced the large base and its much larger population. Scuttlebutt honestly wasn't a poor lover, and for the short time the host might not be a bad choice.

With that thought Prowl composed a message and sent it over a regular communication line, asking the host if he was free to refuel in a joor. While he waited for an answer Prowl worked on the transfer request, filling it out and tweaking in a such a way to get him noticed and get the results he wanted. It wasn't difficult and by the time Scuttlebutt responded that he'd be there Prowl was calculating how long he'd still be on base.

He wondered to the rec room early, intent on sitting and simply watching. It would also display to all that he was available and looking again. He was sure everyone had noticed that Jazz was gone by now. Several looks were thrown his direction, and one aerial flicked a wing in question, inquiring as to Prowl's status, and interest. He flicked a doorwing in reply, inviting the flier over.

"Solarglide." The gold and white mech said as he slipped into the offered seat. "Not used to seeing you down here alone." 

"I'm not accustomed to being here alone," Prowl admitted as he extended his field to teek Solarglide's. "What kind of company are you looking for?"

"Social, companionable. Maybe even an evening that ends together." Solarglide replied, welcoming and not pushing in the slightest. He was rather new here, and while high-energy, he had a reputation for being a very social mech. 

"An evening together is more likely than not, if we are compatible," Prowl gave him a small smile. "What do you enjoy doing when you socialize?"

"Social sparring. Quick partners with similar styles are hard to find. Cleaning up afterward can be pleasant, or more fun." Solarglide suggested, wings flicking again to define the glyphs more clearly. He was open to burning some energy and cleaning up with someone who understood wing-frames. Or warming up, then burning more energy in the guise of cleaning up. 

Prowl couldn't help the way his doorwings perked up. "Why styles do you use?"

"Mostly a form of Diffusion." Solarglide informed him, his own wings lifting in response. "I like to train against grounders whenever possible, in case I am shot down." 

Prowl nodded, his doorwings almost quivering in anticipation. "I would enjoy seeing how well we spar. My primary form is Praxian Enforcer, which is a combination of Diffusion and Teris-Spi for defense, with a few moves from Crystalocution for takedowns."

The bright aerial was almost vibrating in anticipation. "When would you be free for a round?" He asked, already checking his own duty and training schedule. 

"Tomorrow after my shift," Prowl suggested. "You are clear."

Solarglide laughed as he made a note. "You would know that, wouldn't you? Meet at in the multipurpose training room? I can book one of the private ones for us to use, unless you beat me to it." 

"You book the room. I will be there a breem after shift end," Prowl promised. "Do you want to go up against swords and shield, or stick to hand to hand?"

"Hand to hand, at least for the first time around." Solarglide requested. "Otherwise you will probably just polish the floor with me." 

Prowl gave an easy doorwing flick in understanding. "Hand to hand it will be then." He glanced up. "If you will excuse me, I did request to meet Scuttlebutt."

"Of course." Solarglide said, his wings flicking in response as he rose. A respectful nod of greeting was also offered to the host, who returned it before pulling up a chair to join Prowl.

"Are you sure you need to see me?" He asked casually as he produced a cube of energon for himself.

"Strictly speaking, I didn't need to see you when I commed," Prowl pointed with an almost playful tingle in his field. "But I have enjoyed our nights together, and you never indicated you didn't."

"Point." Scuttlebutt agreed with a nod. "And I am sure that you suspected my schedule was clear for tonight." 

"I know you had nothing officially on the schedule. Though I'm well aware of how little that means given your position, just as it is with mine," Prowl agreed. "We both often have little warning before an all-night planning session."

"Also true. Which makes things easier, sometimes." The host agreed and finished his energon. "And with that thought, I am ready to leave whenever you are." 

"Excellent," Prowl almost purred in anticipation and stood. He really had gotten used to having a lover more often than not and he knew it showed. That his behavior seemed to make many mecha seem to like him more was confusing but not worthy of the effort to understand.

* * *

It felt good to stretch his wings and be out of the cramped confines of the shuttle. While he might be climbing in rank, he was still not high enough to warrant a truly comfortable military transport. The stretching also allowed him to gather a massive amount of data in a short time as he took in the Iacon base.

Larger, busier, and on the surface at least, all that Prowl had been hoping for. The downside was going to be from much the same cause. Until he'd drilled it into everyone not to touch his doorwings on pain of broken hands and assault charges, he'd be facing a lot of groping for the next few metacycles. Still, it would be worth it in the long run. This would likely be his last assignment for a long time. Once one got close to the Prime, one rarely left.

With a gaze around as the last of the transport disembarked, he zeroed in on Sonar. This was his new commanding officer, at least until Prowl replaced him in a few vorns.

The mech homed in on Prowl as well, and waved for the Praxian to follow him as he walked off. "Don't bother going with the rest of that lot." He said as the lower-ranking mecha that had been on the transport with Prowl were herded in the direction of the main office. "We can check you into the system just as easy, and this way I don't have to track you down later."

"Yes sir," Prowl fell into line smoothly, his origin as an Enforcer in the highly regulated Praxian territory making following orders easy.

"Iacon's bigger than any place you've been assigned since Praxus, but from your record you look like you'll adapt." Sonar said as they walked along, entering one building and going deeper into tactical territory. Prowl took in everything, matching it up with the maps and files he already had. So far no surprises.

"Stattrack, this is Prowl." Sonar informed a dark green mech. "Get him in the system and make sure he has the basic welcome info."

"Right, right away." Stattrack agreed, twitching a little as he homed in on Prowl and waved the Praxian over with a jerky motion. Prowl complied without comment and Stattrack quickly confirmed his ID and logged him in, then pinged him the welcome package.

"You have your mandatory orn to orient yourself and check in with that loose screw that passes for a medical officer around here, but I expect to see you on time tomorrow for your shift. Understood?" Sonar said as he appeared right behind Prowl, making Stattrack twitch where he sat at the desk, even though the green mech was not being addressed.

"Yes Sir," Prowl responded smartly. He was well aware of Sonar's proclivities when it came to the unit and was prepared for them. Of course, simply being Prowl and his calm, work-centric nature and coding was his most useful weapon against any psychological warfare waged against him. He knew, without doubt, that Sonar had no clue just how much Special Operations training Prowl had. It was the one thing he kept aggressively scrubbed from all records. It would be a pleasure turning Sonar's games against him.

"Get on with you then. I'm sure you can find someone to get friendly with before the orn is over." Sonar rumbled. "Your reputation proceeds you. Just watch that it doesn't come back on the division." 

"Of course," Prowl answered easily, not the least bit disturbed by the implication or accusation. Without any indication that a berthmate was the last thing on his planned activities he turned and left to check in with medical.

The route to medical was clearly marked, even if Prowl had not been provided with map, though he rather felt like he was going the wrong way on the road as he worked his way through the stream of mecha leaving the place. Most of them he recognized as newcomers that had arrived on the same transport earlier in the orn. It was a bonus to doing things out of order: he'd get to each location when there were far fewer mecha there.

When he walked in, his expectations held true. There were only a handful of newcomers and one medium-build blue grounder that he hadn't seen before waiting their turn.

The stranger looked up, and even through the visor Prowl could feel himself being evaluated. A friendly smiled was offered before the mech returned to the conversation he was having with the heavy maintenance worker next to him.

"Designation?" The barked request came at Prowl from across the main room, the clearly marked medical officer just as clearly grumpy with the current state of his domain. 

"Prowl. New transfer," he responded calmly.

"At this rate you're the last one. First come, first serve." The medic grumbled. "Find a seat."

With that the medic, Ratchet, if Prowl's file was correct, returned to his current patient without bothering to wait and see if his orders were obeyed.

He worked his way through the backlog, grumbling the entire time. But as Prowl watched he always took as much time as was needed to do a thorough job, making sure that everything matched medical records and setting appointments for later with those that needed more work or extra attention.

"Right Relay, on the berth." He finally ordered when he got to the dark blue grounder, waving in the direction of an out of the way berth. "I'll start the auto scans and let them run while I am finishing up the rest of these, then we'll see to you."

"You mean you're gonna leave me here all alone?" Relay mock pouted as he obeyed, grin growing at the light swat that directed his way and the warning growl that backed it up.

The heavy grounder was seen to quickly, then Ratchet motioned to Prowl. "You next." 

Prowl got on the berth and patiently and cooperatively allowed the scans, answered the questions and generally allowed Ratchet to do his job as quickly as possible.

"Hey doc, it's done!" Relay called before Ratchet was finished with Prowl. Instead of being irritated with the interruption, Ratchet teeked amused to Prowl.

"You stay where you are. I'm not done with you and those crazy upgrades of yours yet." He warned.

"Well? How does it look? Still good?" Relay demanded, swinging around to face Ratchet before the medic could finish looking over the scans.

"Yes, it looks good. Now hold still!" Ratchet ordered, running a hand scanner over Relay's chest and nodding in satisfaction with the result. "Right, I'm not changing anything this time. Next time I'll probably be adjusting your workload though. By then construction should have started. I'll need to adjust your supplements then too."

"No visual today?" Relay asked as Ratchet stepped back and motioned for him to hop down.

"No. Command incompetence ran me late, and you're due on duty. Though if it will make you feel better, you can stop by later when everyone else is gone and I'll do one." Ratchet said, softening some. "Everything looks fine, and you're holding up well. No reason to worry, all right?"

"Right doc. Thanks!" Relay chirped and headed for the door. "Be back later then." 

"How many carriers are on base?" Prowl asked as Ratchet came back to him.

"So you know what that looks like?" Ratchet asked, actually sounding a little impressed. "Right now, only Relay. And as much as I enjoy looking after him as a change from the norm, I hope he stays the only one. That, or we get a whole influx of them for some good reason." 

"No, but it was the most likely condition between scanning his chest over his spark and talking about adjusting his workload because construction had begun," Prowl explained. "Also, I do not anticipate there are any other chronic conditions where the mecha would be so happy to be here."

"Smart one." Ratchet said. "Need to be, with all of that extra hardware you've got. How often does it give you problems?" 

"Very few. The greatest difficulty I have had is keeping the balance between the frame's needs and the tac-net's when energon is in low supply. It is a very high-demand device and I was largely designed to support it and give it priority," Prowl explained smoothly. "On rare occasion it will enter into feedback loop and shut me down when presented with an irrational enough situation or response. The recovery procedure should be in my medical file."

The medic grunted and made a note about energy levels and Prowl's priority in the grand scheme of things. "Anything else I should know about?" 

"All other quirks are standard to my frametype," Prowl said, then considered who he was speaking to and how few Praxians still existed. "As an Enforcer I was built and coded to drive even more than the average Praxian. While I have had the coding muted, nothing can completely erase the fact that I was built to spend half the orn, every orn, driving patrol. I handle boredom and stillness very poorly. In general I will heal better and faster in stage one medical stasis than on berthrest. Have you dealt with doorwings?"

"Doorwings and wings in general I can handle, unless there is something special about yours that isn't listed in your specs. And since I know ahead of time, unless there is a good reason not to, you can expect to be put in stasis to heal. I'm not going to argue. It makes dealing with patients a lot easier on me. And what little staff they give me." Ratchet added with a grumble, the last bit clearly a sore spot with the medic. 

"Lack of funding or lack of trainable mecha?" Prowl focused on something he considered a high priority in the overall war plans. If you couldn't keep your warriors in good repair it didn't matter how good the plans or warriors were.

"I think of lack of mecha willing to allocate the funds and the resources there, no matter how much I yell." Ratchet sighed. "And if you can fix that..." He let the promise hang. 

"It is not within my authority yet," Prowl said carefully. "However, I do view a strong medical division as critical to a drawn out war. I will do what I can to improve funding. I can make no promises however."

The medic grunted in understanding, accepting and more than a little thankful for the implication that Prowl saw the value in it. "Does that include taking care of civilians as well?" 

"Yes, even if they must come second to those actually doing the fighting," Prowl said with conviction. "The civilians are the ones that are holding onto all the skills a military does not need but a peaceful world does. Without them we are fighting for nothing."

"A tricky balancing act." Ratchet said as he backed away. "Right, you're clear." 

"Thank you, sir," Prowl responded smoothly as he got up and left, intent on claiming his orly ration and then retreating to his new quarters to spending the rest of the evening settling in and securing the place to his standards.

* * *

Jazz strode into the common room late in the orn. His shift was over, and he was looking forward to fueling and finding a mech to spend the night with.

So far he had built a reputation as a fun mech. A carrier with no sire around, he was good in the berth, easy to get along with, and looking. Everyone he approached knew what he was looking for- contributors to the spark he was carrying. So far Relay hadn't found anyone to spend more than a few orns with. Enough to know that they weren't what he was looking for, or they weren't interested in contributing and staying around to help care for the results.

No hard feelings when parting had made the transitions smooth, and the slender dark blue mech was just hoping that would hold true as he approached his current target. The Seeker had been on his radar for a while, and Jazz had finally watched him enough to feel comfortable approaching him. He had a small hope that the rumor that Seekers more inclined to adopt orphans than most mecha meant that this one might be willing to raise a creation he had contributed significantly to.

"Room for company?" He asked, stopping with his hand on the back of a chair near the Seeker. 

"Sure," Lightning smiled at Jazz and flicked a wing towards the chair "Tired of Crest's company?"

"Had a good time, but he's not what I'm interested in long term now." Jazz said, settling with ease and taking a sip of his energon. His field teeked of open honesty, and sincere interest. It was a combination that Jazz had found seemed to put many mecha at ease, and make them open up more. 

"So what are you looking for, long-term?" Lightning focused on him, curious and open to the conversation, though not as eager to get in Jazz's berth than most had been.

"A steady, compatible mech." Jazz replied calmly. "One that's willing to contribute to a sparkling frame, help raise my creation, and maybe even stick around afterward."

"We aren't what you're looking for then, but if you want a night or three of fun we're game," Lightning offered. "The social issues involved in Sierki still hold true among Autobots."

"Sierki?" Jazz asked softly, curiosity coloring his field along with acceptance of the reply. 

"You probably think of them as Combat Aerials. Half breed Seeker-kin," Lighting tried to keep his voice even, his tone acceptable, but his field and wings betrayed how disgusted the subject made him. "It's cultural."

"And what my creation would be if it separates with wings and takes to the skies." Jazz concluded, realizing how very likely that possibility was, given the heritage of the spark sire.

"Yes," Lightning nodded. "A few nights of fun, especially pre-construction won't make a difference. It won't come back on us even if your creation develops wings."

"I'm all about fun." Jazz purred as he finished off the last of his remaining energon. "Wing frames are beautiful. Can't go wrong with three of them, even if it is only for a few orns." 

"Then we are happy to share a berth for a few orns," Lighting rumbled in reply. "Do you know of my trinemates?"

"Heard of them, seen them around. I know you all come as a package deal, so I wouldn't have approached you if wasn't interested in them as well." Jazz said. 

"Good," Lighting purred a little deeper. "Ready to join us?"

"After you." Jazz said, rising and offering the Seeker a full sweeping bow in the direction of the exit. 

* * *

Jazz waited quietly in the hall. If Ironhide followed his normal routine he would be along in less than a breem to clean up from a training session, and the big mech was the latest to have caught his optic in his search for a mate. Strong, steady, established, with rank and connections to spare. He'd make a good creator if he was willing.

Right on time a slightly more scraped up than usual Ironhide strode out of a training room and towards the training sector washracks.

"Want help cleaning up?" Jazz asked, clearly stepping into Ironhide's view, his field warm and welcoming to the large mech. 

"Sure," the big warrior rumbled as he gave the carrier a serious look up and down before they fell into step. "Ya know I come with a bondmate, right?"

"I've heard. Should I be concerned?" The blue mech asked as he fell into step with the Ironhide. His optics were busy taking in the scratched and dented frame and planning out how to tackle it. 

"Only if you want to keep her out of it," Ironhide chuckled. "Any bitlet of mine will be hers too."

"So you already know what I'm after." Relay said with a smile, grabbing several brushes and waiting until Ironhide stepped under the spray, allowing the solvent to soak and loosen some of the dirt and grime. "I've got no problem with her if she would be willing to accept it and me." 

"It, yes. You need to do some convincing with both of us. We would be opening our home and lives to you," Ironhide pointed out. "You passed her background check. Now it's the personal one."

"Package deal." Jazz said firmly as he started to scrub, most of his sensors focused on Ironhide to track what was working, felt good, and not so good. "There's time to feel everything out though. And no hard feelings if it doesn't work out. I just want to know early if it's not." 

"Same here," Ironhide grunted, then groaned deeply as Jazz's fingers found an abused cable in his hip and rubbed it. "We know you're a package deal with the bitlet. Just saying that she hasn't decided if she likes you or not yet."

"I can see that. But you're both interested in finding out?" Jazz asked as messaged the cable for another klik, then moved on to continue cleaning.

"Yap," Ironhide relaxed under Jazz's care, enjoying the rare attention to his frame and letting his field show his enjoyment as much as the low groans and grunts.

Jazz continued to clean in silence, trading field touches with the mech and just allowing himself to get to know Ironhide like this. 

* * *

The small sighed contentedly and snuggled down between the two larger and much heavier war frames. He hadn't been overly sure about this arrangement the first night, but he was growing very fond of it very quickly. They were warm and protective and well-built and everything a good sire should be. They were also willing and stable, two factors that he had been very specific about while he was looking. Between them they were well-funded too. A bodyguard to the Prime and the CO of an elite SpecOps unit were not ranks to be laughed at, even if Ironhide wasn't a command officer. In brief moments, Jazz wondered how Chromia could be so important in his shadow world and yet he knew so little of her. He hadn't even known she was SpecOps. Her file and everything indicated she was a front line warrior like her mate.

"More?" Chromia asked sleepily.

"Nah. Don't need it just yet. But I am starting to get the feeling when we do the bitlet will have all it needs." Jazz smiled, very content to just cuddle between the warm frames. Chromia's acceptance of him had taken less time than he had feared, and after almost ten orns in their berth, the word that Relay had finally found and settled on some sires had spread throughout the base. Many were disappointed at losing a good and easy 'face, but most were happy for him and his creation. It half surprised him that no one said a thing against his choice. Though Chromia could be called attractive if you liked war-framed femmes, her mate definitely wasn't one for looks. He was old though, and in a warrior that said so much. No warrior lasted to their third Prime without being _very_ good. No SpecOps agent lasted just as long without being incredible.  


"So is it safe for me to tell Ratchet that I have found a pair of sires?" Jazz asked, turning his helm to look at Ironhide from where he was still snuggled against Chromia. 

"Yeah, it's safe ta tell him that, and who," Ironhide rumbled. "We'll get the forms filed out if you're ready."

"I would." Jazz smiled, then his field took on a thoughtful edge. "Have either of you raised a creation before?"

"Several times," Ironhide said. "Our own and on assignment. We know what we're in for."

"Good." There was a sigh of relief now, one more fear laid to rest in the fact that Jazz himself never had. It allowed him to sink back into recharge between his mates, assured that his creation would be strong and well-cared for.

* * *

It was a regular checkup, his third with Ironhide and Chromia hovering nearby like good sires. It felt good to have them nearby, to have them openly display like this. Jazz was theirs. His creation was theirs. Not just legally, but socially. They did everything to ensure the base knew Jazz wasn't looking anymore and to assure that Jazz felt it, knew it to his spark. The new stability in his existence wasn't lost on Ratchet and the medic openly approved of the choice and how things were going. It left more energy for the newspark and it was showing. It had rapidly grown stronger since Jazz had settled down.

"How are things looking Doc?" Jazz asked as he stretched out berth, much more comfortable after all of these visits compared to his first one with the base medic. "Still good?"

"Still strong." Ratchet actually smiled as he started the scan, his instruments spiking as soon as he turned them on from the strength of the newspark. "Too strong," he frowned to himself.

Jazz didn't understand, but he saw the tension in both warriors spike and worried because of that. "Too strong?"

"If it continues to grow at this rate it will become too much for your spark to sustain soon," Ratchet danced around the implications more than usual. "I need to do more detailed scans."

"How's that possible?" Jazz asked, confused and concerned even as he unlocked his chest plates to allow the medic the deeper scan with the more specialized equipment that Ratchet had wasted no time in retrieving. 

"We don't know. It's incredibly rare. Was the spark sire substantially larger than you? A shuttle class or very large convoy?" Ratchet asked as he began to scan, but also used his optics to pick out the small but visible motes of light around Jazz's bright, strong spark.

"No, standard frame. Larger than me, but only by maybe fifteen percent. Not that high a class." Jazz answered, craning his neck to try and see the reading, even if he couldn't really make heads or tails of what he was seeing. Ironhide and Chromia came as close as they dared with Ratchet fussing. Close enough to support Jazz with their fields.

Ratchet grunted, scowled, and ran another scan. Then he leaned in very close to Jazz's spark and simply _stared_ for one of the longest kliks of Jazz's existence.

"Good news and bad news. Which first?" Ratchet asked as he straightened. "You can close your armor."

"Bad." Jazz demanded as he sat up, looking worried from the medic to the pair of sires close by. 

"You don't have one newspark, you have two. You're going on light duty immediately," Ratchet said firmly.

"Twins?" Ironhide's shock didn't teek bad to Jazz, just there.

"Bodes well for warriors," Chromia nearly purred. "Split-spark twins are the best we ever have."

The duty assignment was lost on Jazz as the rest of the news registered. "Twins?" He sputtered, trying to process that as his hand rose to cover his spark in a protective gesture.

With a soft vent he refocused. "Well, if that is the bad news, I'm looking forward to the good." 

"They've settled into an appropriate orbit and are both strong. If nothing goes unusually wrong, they should both make it," Ratchet gave a small smile to the carrier. "I'm serious about light duty. On and off shift. You'll need extra supplements and as much energy as they can give you. So far you've been an excellent carrier, so your creator protocols seems to be in good shape and you listen to them. Keep doing that. I will warn you, at their size you are likely to be all but immobile and barely aware for a period before they migrate and can begin to support themselves to an extent."

Jazz nodded in understanding acceptance before his attention shifted mostly to the sires that had accepted him before. "And you are both still okay with this?" He asked quietly. 

"Very okay," Ironhide grinned with his armor fluffed up with pride. "Twins are desirable in the military."

"Yes," Chromia nodded. "We're still okay with them."

Ratchet motioned him off the berth in the direction of the warrior pair. "Calm him down, and then all of you out of here to sort yourselves out. While I appreciate a good show, it needs to take place somewhere besides medical." 

"Sure doc," Ironhide grinned a bit more and pulled Jazz against him for a kiss that quickly had Jazz pinned between his mates.


	3. On His Own Again

Jazz was humming happily and practically dancing through the halls as he made his way back from his latest appointment with Ratchet. Once construction had started he had moved in with the warrior pair permanently, all involved agreeing that cohabitation made the most sense. So when both of them were present when the door opened Jazz went straight for Chromia, pouncing on her before it registered that neither of them seemed pleased to see him. He froze, still clinging with arms around her neck. Hers came up to support him, but her field was grim and very displeased, almost angry.

"We're being deployed," Ironhide answered the unspoken question. "We leave in the morning."

"We'll still take care of your and our creation. We just won't be here to help for a while," Chromia added. "Unless you find another sire to take our place."

Slowly Jazz settled down on her lap, leaning in to her frame as he looked at Ironhide. "You have a claim now too. What would you wish me to do?" 

"If you fall in love, go for it," Chromia smiled at him. "If not, we'd still like to be their creators."

"She said it right. They're ours, always will be. We might be back within the decaorn. Might not be for vorns," Ironhide rumbled. "We argued for at least one of us to stay, but after all was laid out, the Tyger Pax front really does need us both badly."

Quietly Jazz struggled with what to do, trying to wrap his processors around losing the stability that he had come to depend on just in the two metacycles they had been together. They held him and gave him time to process what was about to happen and what it would do to him and the twins he carried.

"Went through a lot of mecha 'fore I found you. Don't think I can replace you. But if I find someone who can- will- help, I'll make sure they understand." He finally promised. 

"Thank you," Chromia nuzzled him. "We'll be back. We just don't know when. Until then, or until you change it, the current arrangement stands. You'll have access to our funds, the doors our rank opens. Everything as it stands. We've assigned Ratchet and Prime as our stand-ins should it be needed."

"Don't be ah stranger ta Prime," Ironhide said with gruff affection. "He's a good mech."

"The Prime." Jazz repeated, still a little in awe and unsettled by that fact. While he had homed in on Ironhide because of his connections to the powerful mech, actually interacting with Prime was still a little unsettling. The giant came by now and then when the three were in public areas, though he never stayed by them long. He'd always spoken directly to Jazz at least once though, usually asking after the sparklings' health and Jazz's own. Well trained as he in doing so Jazz recognized the effort to ease the awe. It just hadn't worked completely yet.

"He likes you and he's got the biggest soft spot in the universe for sparklings," Chromia told him. "He's going to make a point of checking in on you when we're gone."

Jazz groaned, but there was little real distress in the sound. The attention of the Prime would certainly make any would-be trouble makers think twice before they tried anything.

"Thank-you." He said, soft and sincere as he looked at them both. They smiled back and each kissed him, long and warmly.

"Take care of yourself and our bitlets," Chromia instructed firmly.

"And for tonight, we're going to pump you so full of nanites you'll be ready to burst," Ironhide grinned.

Jazz moaned, field flaring out bright and hot with the suggestion as his valve covered slipped open. "Yes, please. Strong creators, strong creations." 

"We'll have very strong creations," Ironhide growled and pinned Jazz to his back before driving into him. As blunt and straightforward in 'facing as he was in everything else, Ironhide still made sure his lover enjoyed his attentions, and there were few things that a carrier in the process of construction craved more than the attention of his chosen sires filling and strengthening his creations. Creator code took a thing that Jazz normally found very pleasurable anyway and elevated it to new level.

It worked much the same way on the sires, and Ironhide's famous endurance was no less intense in the berth, though now it was not how long a single build-up lasted but in how many he could manage before depleting his supply of transfluid and surrendering his position to Chromia. She did much the same, driving into Jazz with the strength of a war-frame and the awareness of what made Jazz scream in bliss befitting her SpecOps training.

By the time the pair were through him Jazz was only semi-coherent as he was wiped down with a gentle care that would have shocked most mecha if they could have seen the warrior pair's attentions. Then strong frames settled down on each side of him and him wrapped in warm fields that even the bitlets recognized now, settling creator and creations in for a long, peaceful recharge. 

* * *

The combat trials were a necessary component of every base that Jazz had been assigned. They allowed aggressive mecha an outlet for violence and grudges in a form that everyone walked (or at least could be carried and repaired) away from. With multiple skill divisions and forms, the organized trials often lasted several orns and occurred at least three or four times a vorn. In this base, the largest the Autobots had, it was expected to last almost a full decaorn and was repeated twice a metacycle.

Since there was no way he could compete -- and Ratchet would have his helm if he even thought about it -- and both of his sires were now gone, Jazz usually felt no reason to attend. When he saw the roster posted on the socialization board though, he couldn't help but come to the hand-to-hand non-field class.

Even now watching Prowl sent a shiver down through his frame. Many tended to write the wing-framed Praxian off as easy win, not realizing the strength and grace the Enforcer grade frame possessed, and the skill with which the mecha who wore that frame could wield it. Jazz knew that it wasn't just Enforcer training there either. Prowl had a life-long fascination with the martial arts and had trained in every style he could find a mentor in. The Enforcer moves still dominated, but even those who knew what to expect from an Enforcer found surprises as Prowl threw in whatever move was most appropriate for the situation from a range of styles.

This match, however, was special and Jazz knew it just from the notes. It wasn't a grudge match, it was a display match. Those were rare things to begin with and this one was a display match of the formal close ranged weapon form of the Praxian Enforcers. Prowl's opponent wasn't Praxian but a flight frame from Praxus.

They made a gorgeous sight decked out in armored wings and legs, armed with two Khopesh swords and a small arm shield, both painted up with markings they never normally wore. It was flashy in a way that didn't come naturally to Prowl but he wore it proudly for this.

Jazz watched closely, recording every move. One hand rubbed over his spark, the twins sensing his focus and sending out vague hints of curiosity once they realized there was no need for concern.

There was a two-fold reason for his rapt attention- his own personal memories and desire for the mech that he had come to realize was wonderful and unique in his own way, and the idea that some day memories like this might be all he would have to share with the bitlets he carried of the mech who was their spark sire. The thought made his spark ache and worried the twins. It didn't stop Jazz was watching, recording and remembering.

No, he'd never lie to his creations about who their spark sire was. He'd never lie about why Prowl wasn't part of their lives. He'd make sure they knew that their sires by choice were a gift from Primus too. To take on another mecha's newspark and care for it as their own was something amazing. Sure they would influence the frames heavily, but the little ones still weren't _theirs_ all the way.

All through the display he sent love to the twins, using it to try and drown out the small flickers of worry and desire as he watched the match. He had always admired the focus and passion that Prowl put in to everything that he cared about. From his work to his lover Prowl was an intense mech, and Jazz could recall how it had felt to have that all focused on him. In a way he knew it was what he had been looking for when he had been screening all those mecha as potential sires.

The final salute as the display ended, smooth and precise through the rounds of applause and the cheers of the appreciative onlookers. Jazz had made sure to find a seat where he could watch Prowl, but where there was little chance of the Praxian seeing him.

Even after a complete makeover, Jazz didn't want to test his luck any more than he already had. The encounter in medical just after Prowl's arrival had been more than enough to put him on edge. Prowl was smart, perceptive and very well trained to pick up on lies and half-truths. It wasn't as critical to his survival as it was in Ops, but it was critical to an Enforcer non the less. Those amazing processors and tac-net made him exceptional at it as he was at so many things.

Prowl was popular too, to judge from the cheers. Jazz knew that the Praxian had been making the rounds of berths himself, and he found his spark twisting again at the thought. What was Prowl looking for, that on a base as large as this one he couldn't find a suitable lover? 

He thought back to Prowl's dating habits before they'd met and realized that while Prowl got around before, it was never like this. Back then he knew Prowl was after occasional company, but the key word was occasional. A new mecha every few orns though, with the longest lasting just under a decaorn, Jazz knew serious players that didn't move that fast. He'd heard from left behind lovers and Prowl was still definitely Prowl in the berth and out of it. While many wished to visit his berth again, few took the break up, such as it was, badly. They all knew before the first touch that Prowl wasn't inclined to stay.

The tidbit that Jazz really hadn't wanted to hear was a story that he knew referenced himself, even if there was no designation attached to Prowl's last serious lover. It was vague and could have been any of dozens of mecha if you didn't know the situation at the time well. Even now Prowl was protecting what he assumed was Jazz's undercover mission. Even now, Prowl was _fond_ of him. Missed him.

That alone had been a revelation, and for a klik had made Jazz question his decision to leave. Right until the gentle brush of the twins against his spark had reminded him of the reason for his choices.

Enough was enough. With some effort he rose from his seat and left, shifting courteously to give him plenty of room to maneuver. 

* * *

Despite what he made it look like, Jazz was always keenly aware of his surroundings and those in them. It was a survive or not skill, one of many that life and the war had trained into him well. Right now, despite all the activity around them both, Jazz and Prowl were both well aware of the way the other looked at him. At the stares and the glances. The hunger in Jazz's spark and the growing interest in Prowl's.

Prowl still didn't recognize Jazz for who he was, but he recognized _familiar_ when he encountered it. When someone was familiar and shouldn't be, he hunted answers. It was simply who and what he was. Knowledge was power and a detective craved it nearly as much as a tactician. Finally after what felt like the hundredth look Jazz mumbled an apology to the mecha that he was sitting with and left the table. He was going to have to find a way to be more careful, some way to avoid Prowl, or the game would be up.

Outside the common room and in the relatively privacy of a side hall Jazz stopped to rest, leaning back against a wall and letting his optics go dim. If he was honest, the game might well be up soon anyway. Once Prowl set his processor to something there was little that would stop the mech from getting answers. So now Jazz had a new mission: determine what he was going to do when Prowl did corner him. It wouldn't do to go into that kind of confrontation without a plan. A very good plan. With a dozen exit strategies. Including maybe getting a message to Ops and seeing if there was any way they would help. With another vent Jazz shifted away from the wall and headed to his quarters. He needed a soft berth, some music, and some time to think. Lots of time to think.

* * *

Inside the common room another mech was planning.

"You know, you could just approach him instead of staring at him every time you are in optic range. He really is a nice mech." Ratchet's voice came from just behind Prowl, startling the Praxian a bit. He had been so focused on Relay's departure that he hadn't consciously registered the medic's approach.

"There is something familiar about him, yet we have not met before I arrived," Prowl brought Ratchet up to speed. "I do not wish to risk such an extended entanglement without knowing who it is with."

"You're sure you haven't met him before?" Ratchet asked as he dropped into a chair, taking a casual swallow of his energon. 

"Yes, Ratchet. I am a Praxian Enforcer, sparked to the caste. I am incapable of forgetting or altering memories," Prowl reminded the medic. "That is why my memories are considered forensic evidence in court. We have not met, but he is familiar. I would know why."

"Where are you looking? I've dug a little, and I don't think he was communications before he came here." Ratchet said. "I haven't pushed much though. Don't want to stress him too much with twin sparks." 

"I've been digging into his records. It seems he was a civilian and learned he was with newspark. He enlisted as a non-com as a way to provide and protect his creation. Since his own base was small he was transferred here," Prowl rattled off what he knew. "However the background, particularly the civilian portion, does not read right. It feels false."

"Maybe he's hiding from someone. He won't tell me who the sparksire is. He does insist that he's a good mech- never had a bad thing to say about him. But there are others that he could be hiding from." Ratchet mused. 

"It's likely," Prowl agreed. "I do not like it, however. Secrets are dangerous."

"He's a carrier out to protect his creations. He might be a dangerous mech, but right now those bitlets are his top priority. And Ironhide and Chromia agreed to be sires to his bitlets. And she's pretty paranoid when it comes to that sort of thing. Makes up for 'Hides shoot first and ask questions later habit." Ratchet said as he weighed things in processor. 

"I wasn't thinking he was a danger so much as whatever or whoever he's hiding from. I do not believe he is a Decepticon infiltrator," Prowl glanced at the door Relay had left through. "I simply do not trust what I do not know."

"So ask him," Ratchet shrugged. "It'll at least give you a starting point to dig further."

Prowl looked back at him thoughtfully, then nodded, finished his cube and stood. "I will."

* * *

Jazz had just fallen into a light recharge when a ping at the door pulled him back awake. With a grumble he scooted off the berth and headed for the door, only thinking at the last moment to check who was on the other side requesting admittance.

The return ID ping froze him in his tracks.

Prowl.

Prowl was on the other side of the door.

Had he found him already?

It took an entire klik for Jazz to settle himself and the distressed sparklings, soothing them as best as he could. He also had an emergency line on tap to Ratchet, ready to call the medic in an instant if things took a turn for the worst.

Then he addressed his field, arranging the layers so that 'tired carrier' was the strongest and easiest to teek. Using the trick was so much easier when one of the emotion-sensations was an honest one. This way it would hopefully drown out the distress and worry - near panic- that was picking away at him.

"Can I help you?" He asked as he finally unlocked the door, addressing the mech standing there with passable mild curiosity. 

"I have a few questions for you if you have a moment," Prowl said politely, giving every indication this was an official visit.

"Of course." Jazz replied as he tried to get a feel for the other without giving himself away. "Do you want to come in, here at the door, somewhere else?" 

"Inside would be best," Prowl motioned into the room. 

Jazz nodded and stepped back to allow him inside. "What what's up?"

"Who are you hiding from?" Prowl got right to the point.

Jazz stared at him for a moment, slack-jawed as he processed the question. "The spark-sire." He finally answered, deciding that in the moment honesty was the best policy. He could always refuse to give designations, and being vague was easy enough, and hopefully enough to calm the detective he could recognize standing in front of him. 

"Why?" Prowl asked carefully, his manner gentling as it would in dealing with a domestic abuse victim.

"Because I don't know how he would react to being a creator." Another honest answer. "And I didn't want to find out. He was never anything but good to me, but a bitlet can change all of that." All of it truth. The who just needed to remain a secret from the mech in front of him.

Prowl nodded. "Is the sire a Decepticon or sympathizer?"

"No!" Jazz caught himself. "No, he's a good mech. Through and through. Down to his spark." 

"Such a good mech that you don't want to find out what kind of creator he might be," Prowl scowled. The answer displeased him. They needed fewer single carriers not more of them. "What is his function that staying with you could be a determent?"

"He's a sparked mech." Jazz said, as though that should be an explanation by itself. "And I thought a long time ago that the mech I was with was a good mech too, the first time." 

Comprehension and gentle regret caressed Jazz where their fields touched. "Thank you. Take care of yourself. There are too few carriers now."

"Thank-you." Jazz kept himself from sagging with relief, though he couldn't help but teek a little bit thankful that the conversation was apparently over. 

Prowl nodded and left, leaving Jazz alone with his thoughts and the after-effects of such a close encounter. Deeply shaken and now able to show it, Jazz fumbled for a cube of energon and managed to consume it before he collapsed on the berth, trying to settle his rattled nerves and the very upset sparks orbiting his own. 


	4. Making Friends

Over the next decaorn Prowl's fixation on Relay was well noted, though more for the fact that they hadn't shared a berth yet. It was unusual behavior for the Praxian who rarely spent more than a couple orns studying a potential playmate before moving in. So when Prowl finally walked up to the table Relay was sitting at everyone expected them to leave together after a brief exchange, or for Prowl to be rebuffed by the mated carrier.

"May I join you?" Prowl asked politely.

There was a moment of hesitation before Relay nodded. "If you would like. Do you have more questions?" 

Prowl sat down and brushed their fields to express the friendly nature of his presence. "Not official ones. How are you holding up without their sires?"

"Well enough. Ratchet isn't too worried, yet." Relay answered, his field answering the friendly teek with the same tired carrier as before and the acceptance of Prowl's presence and questions this time. 

"What happens when he does become worried?" Prowl asked with some genuine concern.

"I don't know. I haven't asked." In a way Jazz didn't want to know. He figured that Ratchet would warn him before things got too far to the bad, as much as the medic had already invested in him and the newsparks. He was half surprised when Prowl simply nodded acceptance.

"What can you still do for fun here?" Prowl asked.

"Mostly I listen to music or read. Ratchet still lets me work some, so at least that changes things up a bit. He has warned me that I will likely be in a semi-functional state around the time that the sparks actually migrate." Jazz admitted. 

Prowl couldn't contain the shudder at the idea of being that immobile. "At least here is plenty to download. Is it because you are carrying twins, or a lack of their sires being here?"

"Some of both, I think. With the spark-sire out of the picture, there is only so much Ironhide and Chromia could do until it is construction only." Jazz said, allowing himself to act more relaxed, arms folding on the table and his chin dropping to rest on them. 

"And now that can't even help with that much," Prowl sighed and sipped his energon. "I looked into their transfer. They really are desperately needed where they are. There are very few who can bring their level of skill and ability to bear."

"I know. I know how hard they argued against both of them going and how hard it was for them to agree that they were both needed." Jazz sighed, then looked at Prowl. "Is there a chance they'll be back before separation, you think?" 

"There is always a chance," Prowl didn't smile. "Unless something significant changes that chance is less than zero point three percent. I am sorry for that."

The dark blue mech flinched, then started to hum softly as he rubbed at his chest, soothing the spark he had just disturbed with his reaction. "I suspected. Still hoped though." 

"Hope is often all there is to keep one going," Prowl said gently, his effort to connect and speak with a non-tactical mecha showing how unnatural it was to him. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Don't think so." Jazz sighed. "Spent so long looking for sires...not sure I'm up to doing it again this late." 

Prowl hummed, then considered the mech next to him. "If your sires are okay with it, and you are as well, you could seek out company to donate for just an orn or three. It would help you through the process while preventing any one mecha from contributing a noticeable amount."

"Thought about that, but I don't want to give any other mech even the chance of trying to stake a claim on them." Jazz said, honestly afraid. He was still very hesitant of who he could trust, and who might leave or turn on him. The 'trial' phase had ended as soon as construction had begun. 

Another nod and Prowl settled into silence for a couple sips. "Have you thought about contracts to the effect before interfacing?"

"Yeah. Don't trust 'em." Short, simple, and to the point, and something he realized too late was enough of a shock to the Enforcer's sensibilities that it was _memorable_.

"I regret you have been treated so badly by the legal system," Prowl's voice was soft and his field unsettled. "Not everyone is so untrustworthy."

"Just because I would honor something like that doesn't meant that other mecha will. And so much is tied up in the war right now, I don't wanna take a chance on legalities that might not exist next orn." Jazz explained. 

Prowl nodded, still unsettled but more accepting of the logic and truth of it. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Like I said, not right now. Ratchet's looking after me good, and I got another good connection if I need him." There was a moment where the dark blue mech's field did soften with his next words. "I appreciate you asking." 

"Good," Prowl gave a faint smile. "Sparklings are the future. I would not have these harmed for lack of effort. They deserve every chance we can give them." He stood, his cube still half full. "My comm is always open if someone corners or threatens you or them. You don't need to be a stranger."

With a quiet nod Jazz watched him go, waiting until Prowl was out of the room before gathering himself to leave. He needed quiet and privacy to sooth his shaken nerves once more. 

* * *

Prowl went rigid when the alarm sounded. There's been an explosion in one of Communication's workrooms. A power surge had overloaded the systems in the room by the initial report. He was out of his office and rushing there on first responder coding before it even registered that he'd moved. The next thing that hit his awareness was Sonar's comm ping, and that it was cut off by the Prime's signal even before Prowl's supervisor could speak.

::Prowl, you are a first responder for the situation,:: the mech's deep voice rumbled threw the Enforcer.

::Yes sir,:: Prowl responded on reflex, only absently noting that Sonar didn't try to comm again.

There was a sort of organized chaos by the time that he arrived on the scene, mecha scrambling about as the emergency systems started to clear the smoke and put out the last of the flames. Prowl immediately took charge, barking orders at mecha who were not helping the most efficiently and using his rank and memory to call them by designation. It was a pleasure to see them react correctly. Very few even checked to see who was giving orders.

It wasn't long before things settled into the investigative phase and Prowl went to work discovering what had happened. He knew who'd been damaged, but not even Relay's designation could distract him. At least not until all the work was done. Then he was in the medbay and checking up on everyone before he even bothered to clean the smoke and ash from his frame.

Ratchet had tucked Relay into a corner, granting the carrier more privacy where he was hooked to various machines and to all appearances offline at the moment. 

"Casualty report," Prowl asked even as he remained out of Ratchet's way.

"All will continue functioning. Two will be ready for release as soon as their forms clear. Switchtrip is going to be on leave until the hand he lost can be fabricated and replaced." Ratchet paused and straightened to bark some orders at one assistant before continuing. "Relay is burned and dented up some. I have him in light medical stasis until I can do a full eval on him." 

"The newsparks?" Prowl's agitation was evident to all who knew winged frames.

The sight was enough to make Ratchet pause for a moment. "Agitated, but strong and healthy. I'm going to bring him out of stasis as fast as I can so he can calm them though." 

"Good," Prowl relaxed, relieved at the news. "May I stay?" he asked quietly.

"Sure. Go sit." Ratchet watched Prowl obey before turning to finish what he was working on.

It was almost a joor later before he arrived at the carrier's berthside. "So you finally managed to hook up with him?" He asked as he started systematically looking over readings. 

Prowl's doorwings jerked sharply, a blatant display at how broadsided he was at the question. "No. I haven't been trying to. He has mates already."

"Mates that I happen to know gave him permission to take another sire if he found one he really liked." Ratchet commented, looking at Prowl out of the corner of his optic as he applied several pain blocks and starting stripping some badly burned plating. 

"I never asked," Prowl admitted. "He doesn't like me much though, so it's not relevant. I'm not the kind of mecha many would choose as a mate, much less a sire."

"He's said he doesn't like you? That'd be a new one from him." Ratchet actually sounded surprised as he moved from the now repaired leg to the arm that was burned just as bad. 

"He's uncomfortable around me. Tense and not engaging," Prowl elaborated. "He's never directly stated he does not wish me around."

"Did you ever figure out where you thought you knew him from?" 

"No," Prowl admitted a truth he didn't care to think about. He hadn't been trying very hard. He wasn't sure he wanted to know who the spark sire was out of concern that his caste loyalties and judgment might call on him to tell the spark sire what had happened to his lover.

"But you're still interested in him." Ratchet observed as he took some readings and starting repairing more of the minor damage, one optic always on a special monitor that was currently displaying three different but similar spark signatures.

"Yes," Prowl admitted very quietly. "I do find his company appealing."

"What's so special about him?" Ratchet asked, reaching up to make some adjustments. "I'm going to start letting him come slowly out of stasis. I'd give it a couple of kliks before the monitors start to change, and at least a couple of breems before external systems start to come online." 

"I don't know," Prowl admitted something he liked even less. The unknown was dangerous. It was threatening. It was everything he was designed to obliterate. Here, he was drawn to it and it was unsettling.

Ratchet could only shake his helm, not sure what to tell the mech standing next to him, and seriously starting to wonder what sort of history might exist between the two. Prowl letting a mystery go was a serious red flag. The kind that warranted careful attention and possibly an investigation. He wasn't there yet, but Ratchet was going to have to keep a better optic on them both.

With that noted and on his radar, Ratchet settled beside the Praxian to monitor Relay as he came back online. He watched as systems onlined in good working order, noted two rounds of panic that were both calmed quickly enough that the medic was just content to note them and let them pass, and smiled a little in greeting as the optics started to light. 

"Wha hap'n'd?" Relay's vocalizer slurred as he began to look around, only to fixate on Prowl instead of the medic.

"There was an explosion in the communication workroom. You and three others were injured." Prowl explained when Ratchet did not answer right away.

"Sparks?" Jazz asked, some of this attention shifting to Ratchet now. He could feel them both strong and well next to his spark, but he wanted to be sure. 

"They're both fine. You weren't badly damaged enough to stress them, only upset them," Ratchet promised. "Any warnings come up?"

"Low fuel, low energy- those are current. Residual heat and impact warnings that are clearing quickly." Jazz summed up once he checked them. 

"Then all as expected," Ratchet nodded and produced a cube of the energy and nutrient dense energon and handed it over. "I want to keep you overnight to ensure that nothing goes wrong from delayed shock. It's unlikely, but it's not like you have anywhere to be for a while."

"Nah. Gonna need something to occupy my processor, but I'll stay." Relay agreed, more than willing to comply with just about anything that pertained to the safety of his sparklings. 

Prowl took a datapad from his subspace and handed it over. "This might be enough."

Relay teeked surprised for a moment, but accepted the datapad. "Thanks. What is it?" He asked, even as he turned it on to look. 

"A few novels I believe you might enjoy," Prowl explained while Relay scanned the contents of the two detective stories, a classic romance and a fantasy.

"Thanks." There was more like behind the response this time, the smaller mech perking up as he scanned the titles and summaries. "This'll be great." 

"Good," Prowl seemed to flush a little at the positive response and Ratchet made note that Prowl really was interested in Relay, but maybe not for romance. As easy as it was to get in Prowl's berth for a night, it wasn't easy to get close to him. The criteria that Prowl used for who he let close still baffled Ratchet and the other officers. His interest in Relay only made that worse for them.

There was an almost awkward pause before Prowl shifted. "Take care, Relay. I must return to my duties."

"You as well." Relay answered, the reply sincere, though the small mech's attention shifted to the datapad as soon as the Praxian turned to leave.

Ratchet hovered until Prowl was gone from the medbay. "Would you like him to leave you alone?" he asked gently.

"What?" Relay looked up, startled before the question finally processed. "I-yes-no." He stuttered. "No." 

"Prowl thinks you don't like him. True?" Ratchet asked, still keeping his field gentle and calm.

"It's not that I don't like him. I, I like him a lot." Relay admitted, looking down at the datapad to avoid looking Ratchet in the optics. 

"What's the problem then? He's a good mech and he cares about you a lot," Ratchet asked.

"What if he leaves too, Ratchet? Already lost two sire-mate- protectors..." He finally looked up, optics worried. "I don't think I can do that again." 

"He's a tactician and he'll be CTO of the army soon, Relay. He's not going to be transferred anywhere you can't be. Mecha like him are protected. He isn't needed where he can see the action. I'm not saying go for it. I'm just saying you like each other and he's a good mech," Ratchet said evenly. "At least clue him into the fact that you like him."

"I'll think about it." Relay promised, his field teeking sincere promise. He didn't trust many mecha, but the medic was one of the few who had found a way into that small circle. 

"Good," Ratchet patted his shoulder. "Enjoy your down time. I'll be by in a few joors with more energon and to check on the newsparks."

* * *

Two more decaorns and Jazz had managed to act normally when Prowl joined him for energon. The talk was usually limited and often about the twins, but this time Jazz felt something was up. The talk, Prowl's teek and frame language were all normal, but something was up.

"Do you think of the spark sire much?" Prowl asked innocently.

The smaller mech paused, energon half-way to his mouth. A moment he took a drink, letting it slide slowly down his intake as considered his answer and using it to buy himself some time to form one.

"Every orn." He finally admitted. 

"You still care for him then?" Prowl prodded gently.

"Yes." Blue optics shifted down, focusing on the cube that he was now fiddling with instead of consuming. "A lot. He's special." 

"If you knew he'd welcome the twins, would you tell him they exist?" Prowl pressed forward carefully.

The cube dropped to the table, spilling as Relay flinched and started to shake. "Yes." 

A strong white hand reached over to rub Jazz's inner wrist until he settled. "If I'm right about who he is, he misses you a great deal. It might be worth contacting him, even if you conceal where you are."

"I can't." Jazz mumbled, still teeking distress even if he was outwardly calming. It was so hard, with Prowl sitting right there. _Touching_ him. Tempting him with the idea that he could have the sire of his newsparks back, willing to support them and stand there with them.

But could Prowl love them? Could he raise sparklings when he hadn't come from that world? Could he forgive Jazz, if he knew the truth? 

"All right," Prowl murmured as he continued to gently rub Jazz's inner wrist. "I'm sorry I upset you."

Jazz nodded before getting slowly to his pedes. "It's fine. Need to get some energon and rest though. Thank-you." 

Prowl nodded and watched him go before turning his attention to the rest of his energon, then wiping up the small mess Jazz had made.

* * *

Jazz lay curled on his berth, still able to bend his frame to a surprising degree even with all of the recent changes. He had sent messages to Ironhide and Chromia the orn after Prowl had shaken him so badly in the rec room. The responses had come late last night, encouraging him to take another sire if he had found one that he liked well enough, echoing their words before they been sent away to the front lines. They had seemed a little surprised at his choice when he had given him the designation, but Chromia could find nothing against him, and Ironhide said he approved if she did.

Which just left Jazz to lay there and try to figure out what to do. He had already called his superior and requested someone take his shift for the orn. A call had been made to Ratchet, asking if he had time to maybe just listen this orn, and the medic set a date for after he was done in medical, even offering to bring energon to Jazz so the carrier didn't have to come to him. With a soft vent he rose to answer, freezing in place when it was not Ratchet as he had been expecting, but Prowl. Gathering himself, he finally stepped back to allow the Praxian to enter without a word. 

"Thank you," Prowl said softly as the door closed behind him. He offered a sweetened cube of energon, one that by color and glow was exactly what Jazz liked the most when he was hurting. "Peace?"

"For what? You've done nothing." Jazz asked, confused even as he accepted the offered cube, the scent of it making his tank rumble. 

"I have upset you a great deal, and if I am right, I have done far more than that," Prowl said quietly as he nudged Jazz to sit down so Prowl could.

The smaller mech fall back on the berth, catching the energon with both hands and holding it tight to keep from dropping it. "Prowl?" 

Prowl settled on a chair he pulled nearby. "Your default designation is not Relay, is it? You've been an Autobot for a long time and we knew each other well when you called yourself something else."

The mech on the berth started to tremble, shivers running through his frame as he looked down. "Yes."

"And if I told you that I love you?" Prowl managed just above a whisper. "That it _hurts_ when you aren't in my existence and I want you back. Whether your twins are of my spark or not, I would raise them as mine if you'll let me."

"Prowl?" Hope, disbelief, joy, denial and a dozen other emotions flickered through Jazz's field and in his optics- unfiltered, uncovered optics- as he stared at the Praxian. A very small corner of his processor was able to wonder if this was how Prowl felt when he was caught in a loops, with the same things spinning over and over and the feeling that there was no escape. 

"Jazz." Prowl said simply as he stood and moved to the berth where Jazz could easily teek the cacophony of emotions in his field and put a hand near Jazz. "I never had creators, but I do have some creator coding. I had mentors. This wasn't something we discussed or I ever contemplated, but the past few metacycles have forced me to acknowledge that you have been more than a pleasant distraction. That I care deeply for you."

"You want me. _And_ them?" Jazz whispered, memories of before overlaying now, a different mech standing in front of him for a nanoklik before Prowl's field touched his, and it was the Praxian looking down at him once more. "All three of us?" 

"All three of you," Prowl swore. "Are ... are they really mine?"

"I hadn't spark merged with anyone else. Not for a long time." Jazz said quietly as he reached out towards Prowl, hopeful invitation that was still unsure.

Prowl's field flared with a burst of wonder and he completed the small distance between them to grip Jazz's hand. In that touch Jazz felt that Prowl was just as hopeful and unsure, but far more determined. "Do you want Ironhide and Chromia to be their creators too?"

"They've done a lot for us, were good to us. I promised them I wouldn't take their claim on the sparklings from them, even if I took another mate." Jazz said, leaning forward to touch Prowl more, wanting and needing the contact that he had been craving since Prowl had arrived and the warrior pair had been sent away. 

Prowl nodded and leaned into the contact, shifting until he was sitting at Jazz's side and holding him. "Then I will welcome their help with _our_ creations."

At that moment something in Jazz snapped and he fell against Prowl. "You want them. We can keep them. We can, we will..." His voice broke as he started to shake again with the release of the fear and tension that had been pulling at him for metacycles.

Minor warnings flared on his HUD, but he couldn't read them right now for everything that was clouding his processor and spark. 

"Jazz?" Prowl's flare of concern was mirrored by the twins against Jazz's spark. 

"Still trying to process. Been running, afraid." Jazz murmured against him, the shaking subsiding some. He didn't try to support himself any more than he had already been though, taking comfort in the strong frame holding him up and finally reaching out to soothe the twins some. 

"Afraid for what?" Prowl asked softly even as he cued up Ratchet's comm.

"Afraid that someone would take them from me. I wasn't going to let it happen. Not again." Determination flared through his field in a strong wave, reaching Prowl and the newsparks both and settling the bitlets even more. 

"No one will take them from us," Prowl promised. "I'd like Ratchet to check that all is well."

"He was supposed to come by. Though he might want us down there instead now. He's gonna wanna check for himself, ya know." Jazz said, agreeable to the idea. 

Prowl nodded and pinged Ratchet.

::What?:: the grumpy medic responded.

::Relay has suffered a serious shock. We'd both like you to check him out to ensure that no harm came to the newsparks over it,:: Prowl explained.

::What did you do?:: Ratchet demanded. ::How bad is he? I'm coming.::

::I would rather explain in person, and he's calming now. I do not believe there is anything wrong, but newsparks are so rare,:: Prowl hedged around the truth. "Jazz, do you wish to remain as Relay with Ratchet today?"

"No." That Jazz was sure of as he settled more against Prowl. "Access to my complete medical records might help. And I trust him. I'll tell Chromia and Ironhide too, if they come back. But that as is as far as it should go. It is my cover." The last sentence came out more than a little bitter. 

"Then we must plan for how to transition Relay to Jazz without breaking your public relationship with any of us, including the sparklings," Prowl murmured. "Just something to think about. Can you tell me your mission?"

"Not be Jazz for the next 300 vorns." Jazz growled. "That was the price to keep them, and I had to fight for it every step of the way." 

Shock rippled through Prowl's entire being with horror right on its heel plates. "You had to fight to keep your creations?"

"Yes. They were going to terminate the spark as soon as they found it." Jazz whispered, a shudder running through his frame. "Ops, lover. It's not a pretty place, sometimes." 

"Still..." Prowl forced himself to stop thinking about the reasoning that not even he could find palatable. It was one thing to terminate a newspark because the carrier wanted to or it was medically necessary. He could understand and accept that, even if he ached for the life unrealized. But to try and force a termination against the carrier's wishes ... that was beyond even his decidedly limited morals.

The painful thoughts were derailed further when Ratchet stalked in.

He stopped, staring at the scene in front of him for a klik. "What did you do?" He asked as he finally approached, calm on the surface but clearly confused as he started some initial scans on Jazz. 

"I confronted him with my assessment of the truth. That I am their spark sire and that I wish to be part of their lives, as I love him," Prowl said quietly. 

"This is the mech you've been running from this whole time?" Ratchet stared, just managing to complete his scan. "Why? Why now? Why-pit why?" It was almost enough to throw the medic for a loop.

"Because I didn't think he would want them." Jazz admitted. "And I did. I wasn't going to give in this time. And if you want more accurate medical records, you might check 'Jazz'." 

"I take it that bad things'll happen if I mention Jazz as you to anyone else," Ratchet said dryly, most of his attention on the scans. "Who else knows who you really are? And what division are you actually in? How are the bitlets feeling?"

"You and Prowl. Ops. Calming, now that I am. And pushing at me some because of the wild ride there for a bit." Jazz answered, finally shifting around to allow Ratchet better access to his chest plates. "And yes, bad things. Relay is the only reason I can keep them." 

"Not even the local Ops commander knows your Ops?" Ratchet asked. "They seem to be fine. Strong and stable. Will you tell Ironhide and Chromia? Or the bitlets?"

"Word got around Ops. I'm sure he knows. But once I made my rather unpopular choice I was dropped out of most of the loop." Jazz sighed. "I intend to tell Ironhide and Chromia, if they return. And yes, once they are grown we'll tell them. If only because Relay will have to vanish." 

Ratchet nodded both understanding and acceptance. "Then I agree with your plans." He focused on Prowl. "Do you have any questions before I scan your spark to make sure it is a match and then leave you two to sort the rest out?"

"When will it be safe to merge? I don't want to create without intending to again."

"So long as you're the sire, I want you two merging as often as you are willing and able until that pair migrate. Jazz will need all the help you can give supporting them, and I would assume that since you are planning to take them as your own you want a bond with them as well." Ratchet declared as he pulled out a scanner and pointed at Prowl's chest plates. "Unless you want to come down the medical for me to do the scan, open up." 

Prowl unlocked his armor and parted it with absolute trust in the two mecha in the room. "What is a creator-bond like?"

"As a sire, yours won't be near as strong as Jazz's, and it will fade as the sparklings grow. This late starting to form one you may not be able to communicate with words, but you'll be able to sense emotions- love, fear, happiness, distress. You'll probably always have a small sense of them in your spark, so you would know if one or both of them deactivated." Ratchet said as he scanned, then pulled back so he could compare the readings. "And if it makes any difference, they are yours. The signature is a perfect harmony to theirs, stable and strong." 

"Good," Prowl closed his armor. "Then a bond with them will not be detrimental to my function and will be an asset in raising them." He hesitated. "How likely is it they will look Praxian?"

Ratchet paused, considering. "Honestly, probably not very high. 'Hide and Chromia contributed a lot to the early construction process. Jazz is not. And it would be better for all if you could focus on sharing spark energy until there is no longer a reason. The supplements he is on can continue to aid in the construction demands easily."

At the mention of the supplements Jazz started to gag and make faces, the amount he was having to take enough to make him gripe and groan. 

Prowl chuckled at Jazz's reaction. "I'll help with the material such as I can, but I would prefer that they didn't look at all Praxian than be clear half-breeds." He paused again and sobered. "Not that there are enough Praxians left to matter, it seems still I have those social protocols intact."

"Then I wouldn't worry too much." Ratchet concluded. "The base pattern for the frames has already been coded. You'll mostly be contributing material rather than formatting." 

Prowl nodded and relaxed slightly. "Are either flight frames?"

"No, both are solid grounders," Ratchet cocked his helm and regarded the Praxian snuggled against his mate. "Why would you even ask?"

A low chuckle escaped Prowl. "The rumors that Praxians came from Seekers are completely accurate. Even as a sparked mecha I have a lot of flight coding in me and thus a spark that is reasonably well suited to a flight frame." He gave a slight shrug. "I was curious mostly. I don't have the fundamental understanding of kindling and creation that either of you do. Honestly I didn't think it was possible for an Enforcer to kindle. On that subject, how do we prevent this from happening again? I do not wish to kindle unintentionally again."

"Soon as they separate my inhibitor's getting fixed." Jazz said firmly. "And part of all my check-ups is it have it scanned from now on. I _want_ these two, but having this happen again would not be good." He shivered. "Not sure I'd win a second time." 

Prowl caught Jazz's chin and tipped his face so their optics met. "Next time you would not face it alone. My authority is not insignificant."

"And Primus knows Optimus would put his pede down as soon as he got wind of it." Ratchet commented as he packed his things away, stifling the urge to smile at the passionate kiss that Prowl's promise earned him. "But sounds like you have a good plan for it not happening again, at least not until you two decide to create intentionally. Yes, I'll repair the inhibitor as soon as the sparklings are safely out of your frame. 

"Is mine functioning correctly? I would think both must malfunction for kindling to occur," Prowl spoke up, ever concerned with his personal responsibilities. "I do have a preference for merging, even casually."

"Yours is working fine, but as much as you like it, I would limit merging to mecha who you either know have a functioning inhibitor that has been checked recently, or mecha you wouldn't mind sparking up. You have a strong spark, and that is a key factor in kindling." Ratchet informed him, arms crossed sternly. 

Prowl was still as he processed that, then inclined his helm in submission. "I will be more careful in the future."

"Good. You-" He looked at Jazz, "Fuel before you do anything else. I am assuming you want Prowl added to the records as a sire. Do you two want him to be listed as the spark sire?"

"I would," Prowl said, but looked to Jazz as the deciding vote.

"Absolutely," Jazz grinned a bit giddily.

"Then I'll leave you two to figure out how you are going to break the news to the base, and all of the other wonderful details that come with being co-creators." Ratchet said with a nod. "Comm me if you need anything, though if you freak him like that I again I might be inclined to hurt you." He threatened Prowl before he turned and left. 

"I do not believe there is anything shocking left between us," Prowl murmured as he nuzzled Jazz for another kiss. "Drink a cube. I want to feel your spark, and theirs."

With a sigh of contentment Jazz complied, offered the requested kiss before reaching into his subspace for one of the cubes he always carried with him now. "Going to save the good stuff for after." He purred, slipping the sweetened cube that Prowl had brought him into the empty space. 

"Good. It should be enjoyed," Prowl purred as his hands began to caress Jazz's changed frame to learn the differences. "I will fill your valve later. I know you want it."

"I do." Jazz nuzzled him between sips of energon. "But if you don't mind- your spark- it would help so much. And if you can feel them, maybe that will help too?" 

"It would not hurt," Prowl agreed as he caressed Jazz's frame to slowly arouse and warm him. "You know how much I enjoy a good merge. You'll never lack for that again."

"I didn't want you to know." Jazz shivered under his touch, though this time is was from the exploring hands and the warmth they brought. "I was afraid. Afraid that you would want them extinguished. Or that you would feel like you _had_ to accept them." 

"Sparklings are the future," Prowl said about the only thing he could. "I would respect your wishes if you had wanted to terminate the carry, but I would never encourage it."

"Thank you." Jazz turned, chest to chest with the mech he was slowly started to think he might love. "Meet them?"

"Yes," Prowl shivered with a flare of anticipation and opened his armor, parting it smoothly to bathe Jazz's frame in near-white light.

"So beautiful." It was awe that Jazz had felt the first moment that he seen Prowl's spark. An awe that had never faded.

Dancing blue light glistened on the Praxian's armor as a frame that was deceptively strong parted to allow Jazz's spark to come into view. Visible to the naked optic was a pair of smaller sparks orbiting it, one a brilliant gold, the other vibrant green. 

"As are they, and you," Prowl whispered in reply, his optics locked on the tiny lives still dependent on Jazz.

"Please." Jazz whispered, pleading. So close to the spark that he been craving and never thought he'd have, he couldn't hold back much longer. Confusion flickered across Prowl's awareness for a brief nanoklik before he drew their frames together. It was a quick merge, all four sparks involved wanting it badly and already well-attuned to the others.

"Yes." It was the last coherent verbal sound Jazz offered as he sank into that welcoming warmth and energy. Finally, he was assured of the truth that Prowl had been speaking. His spark could accept what his processor was still afraid of- that Prowl was willing to accept these sparks they had made, and Jazz as well.

The two new energies were confused for a klik, faced with something that was new but strangely familiar. But as soon as they _touched_ Prowl's spark they leapt forward, greedy for the energy they could sense there and curious about this new feeling-person. Prowl's sparked welcomed them, fed them as much as they could absorb and reveled in how long that process delayed the more intense pleasure that would bring an overload. For as long as the newsparks absorbed the bulk of the mingling energies the adults received little of it.

Finally they withdrew, sated in a new way that left them strangely calm and finally opened the way for the adults to connect. Love, fear, longing, strain and so much more caressed both halves of the merging whole. Both sides soothed the fears, reveled in the love and filled the longing until they wanted nothing more than to hover in this perfection forever.

What they wanted and what their sparks, especially the one that was supporting two others, would allow were far different things. The energy continued to build even as they calmed, tipping them both into an even deeper place of bliss where coherence ceased to exist.

Awareness returned with warmth, sated contentment and for Prowl, a notice that all was well and his abrupt shutdown was the result of a good overload. With that he allowed himself to drift to full awareness, unhurried and enjoying the sensations, including the field of the mech rousing next to him.

Wonder and exhausted joy spilled over from the dark mech as he snuggled into Prowl. He was safe. His sparklings were safe. And their sire was here, willing to stay and support them and their carrier. Because Prowl _wanted_ to be there. Yes, the sparked mech had fear-laden doubts about how good a sire he'd be with no experience and only about half the creator coding that Jazz had, but he was determined to do his best. As far as Jazz was concerned that meant he'd excel at it as he excelled at everything else he put his processors to.

"You know ... Ratchet might be able to install full creator code. Can you do that?" Jazz finally asked, tilting his helm to look at Prowl. 

Prowl thought about that for nearly a quarter klik. It was an incredibly long time to process in Jazz's experience. "I do not believe it is a wise choice. The probability that it will damage my tactical protocols is too high. If the war ends and it is still relevant we can consider it again."

"I hope it ends." Jazz sighed, fully accepting of Prowl's reasoning, even if he wished it could be otherwise. 

"That is what we are all working hard towards," Prowl promised. "It is why I have worked so hard for so long and will continue to."

"And we'll be waiting on you. And any breaks you have during the orn." There was a ripple in Jazz's field, one of amused curiosity. "So are the rumors true? Are you going after Sonar's job?" 

"Of course. I intend to be CTO of the army. The sooner I can command how the government deals with this war the sooner it will be over," Prowl huffed. "Even if I'm still working on how to get what we must do past our current Prime."

"Hmmmm ... Don't be too hard on 'em. He's a good mech." Jazz commented, then nudged Prowl's helm around for a kiss. "Do I still get to take you up on the other half of that offer?" 

"Absolutely," Prowl rumbled eagerly. "Settle how you're most comfortable."

With a purr Jazz settled back on the berth, his frame not yet distorted enough to make this position difficult. And he wanted to see Prowl over him. To be covered by the Praxian, possessed and protected. It was a desire that Prowl was delighted to indulge as he slid seeking fingers over Jazz's valve cover.

"Let me in, lover," Prowl purred as his spike pressurized eagerly.

"Been wanting you." Jazz quietly as the cover slid away under those knowing fingers. "All the time I was looking, I was wanting you. Tried to find someone to replace you, and couldn't." 

"I did much the same," Prowl shivered in anticipation at the thick slickness that greeted his fingers. "It forced me to admit what I felt for you." He circled his fingers, briefly teasing his lover before desire was too much and he sank forward, slow and focused on every micron he moved forward into that welcoming passage. 

Words were not a response Jazz could manage as creator code and his own personal desire for the mech above him escaped in a keen. His valve rippled around the spike, inviting it deeper, teasing it with a desire that was mirrored and intensified in his field. Prowl had little desire to speak, his awareness focused completely on pleasuring his lover with both a good overload and plenty of material for the frames Jazz was building. He intended to go slow, to build their overload with long lovemaking and soft pleasure. He was completely unprepared for the take Jazz's protocols had on the situation, which was to garner as many overloads as possible from Prowl with Jazz's pleasure secondary.

The sharp cry dragged out of Prowl as Jazz's frame and field made those demands was half pain and half pleasure, but all of it was willing.

"Sorry." the gasp was barely coherent as Jazz's hips rolled up to meet Prowl's, unable to ignore the demands from being so long without a sire and suddenly having one willing.

Later, Jazz knew, he could make it up to Prowl. Having a sire around would ease the intensity of the drive. But for now all he could do was demand and take what was being given. He could teek it in Prowl's field that he didn't really mind. That he was more startled at the intensity than anything. He could feel it in Prowl's movements as well, that Prowl was willing, able and growing eager. It was the last thing Jazz thought as he cried out in the pleasure of being filled by the sire of his creations.

Prowl would drive into him, fill him, until one of them passed out.

It was so good.


	5. Gifts for a Lover

"What strings didja have to pull to get us this fast a shuttle?" Ironhide asked as he relaxed in the small officer transport and indulged in a cube of high grade that had been at the comfortable chair.

"I didn't," she shrugged one shoulder, still careful of the settling repairs in the other. "I'd wager it was Relay's new mate. I've heard plenty about Prowl. Most of it summed up with 'he gets what he wants.'"

"What else ya hear about him? Was surprised to see his designation on that message. Know he came after us, but that mech seems ta be 'bout as different as ya can get." Ironhide asked. He had started to listen more when he had heard Prowl's designation, and calm, collected and ruthless seemed to be part of the description. Along with a liberal berth hopping policy before Relay caught him. Of course, Relay had a liberal berth hopping policy before they caught him too. Sometimes there were reasons for it.

"He's aiming for CTO and unless someone assassinates him first he'll make it within the decade in all likelihood," she thought over the most interesting tidbits that she could share. "Sparked a Praxian Enforcer, worked undercover and with Praxian SpecOps enough he could have had a direct transfer into Autobot SpecOps without losing his rank. Very respectable fighter given he's spent more time at a desk than in the field his entire existence. Scary mech all the way around and getting scarier every vorn."

"Scarier?" Ironhide rumbled, still possessive of the bitlets and Relay. "And this transport was his idea? He doin' it for Relay, or for 'imself?" 

"He's turning from cop to warrior. So yes, scarier," she shrugged. "I expect we'll find out when we reach Iacon, but how getting us there faster would be for himself is beyond me."

"True. Guess there's nothing in it for him." The big mech settled back in the seat, deciding so long as Prowl seemed to be doing good to Relay, he could get used to occasional perks like this that weren't provided by his mate or because of his connections to the Prime.

Speaking of the Prime. "Gonna take a klik and drop in on Optimus while we're here. See what sorta feels the Matrix is givin' him for this Prowl." 

"A good idea given Prowl's ambitions. We might have to protect Prime from himself again," she sighed. "Seriously, I have to wonder what the Matrix was thinking picking _him_ to lead us in war."

"That it didn't want to have to find another after the war?" Ironhide suggested, reading between his mate's words with the ease of long practice. "We'll do what we have ta." 

"As always," she sighed. "It'd still have been nice to have a warrior-Prime right now."

* * *

"Been waiting for you." Jazz said, smiling at the sight of the mecha that had agreed to still be secondary sires to newsparks he carried as the door opened. "Prowl told me you were in." 

"He did now, did he?" Ironhide grinned as he captured the smaller, lighter frame and drew him up for a kiss. Chromia was right behind Jazz, pinning him between their strong, well-armored frames.

"He did. And said for us to enjoy ourselves. He's working late, and then recharging elsewhere." Jazz purred from where he was snuggled between them, the small flicker of unease in his field secondary to the desire flooding it now. 

"We'll talk after you're sated," Chromia declared with a hungry rumble as her spike cover snapped open and she tugged Jazz towards the large berth.

"Please." His frame had changed enough that the small blue mech could no longer bounce along behind her as he once had, but his field still expressed the same desire. 

"So needy," Ironhide teased as he watched his mate help Jazz to settle on his chest and knees before driving into him with all the abandon of full sire protocols and a hungry mate.

"Always." Jazz agreed, pushing back into each thrust with abandon. "Especially with these two. Even with Prowl-," He groaned and shuddered. "Even with Prowl still need supplements." 

"Our poor carrier, reduced to taking supplements. It's not right," Ironhide rumbled as he did his best to ignore his hard spike until his mate roared and ground against Jazz while pumping transfluid loaded with minerals and nanites into their eager carrier.

"Won't have to tomorrow." Jazz panted as he braced against Chromia's leaning on him and lifted his helm to Ironhide. "Not with you two." He challenged. 

"Won't need'm for longer than that," Ironhide rumbled and nudged Chromia to move the moment she had the coordination for it. "We'll fill you to bursting every moment," he grunted with a driving thrust into the slick passage.

A sharp keen of agreement issued from Jazz at the promise, his valve squeezing around the large spike and his field flaring with bliss. His sires would overload half a dozen times before he did. It was simply what creation protocols did to ensure that the sires gave their all and the carrier didn't loose too much energy overloading. He was in utter bliss, those same protocols ensuring that the extended arousal felt incredible good, a desirable state, rather than the frustration it would have normally created.

By the time the pair were spent their carrier was a contented purring limp mech pinned between a pair of strong frames where he radiated warmth and contentment, and an unusual level of distracted thoughtfulness. 

"All right, we're all out, so you talk," Ironhide demanded.

Jazz sighed and stretched carefully, thoughtfulness shifting to moderate hesitation as he lifted his helm to look at them. "Haven't been completely honest with you." 

"What haven't you told us?" Chromia asked carefully, the tension in her frame far more subtle than in Ironhide's but to Jazz also more dangerous.

"Thought there was a chance you might already know." He admitted, focusing on Chromia. "Relay's not my given designation."

She nodded slowly, earning a sharp look from her mate, who then settled. "I was reasonably sure, yes. It wasn't my place to blow your cover, not even to Hide here."

"If you look up Jazz you'll find a lot more than you'll ever find for Relay." The dark blue mech sighed softly. "Going under cover was the only way I could keep the sparks. Well, the only way they would let me." 

"I'm half surprised you managed that," she admitted with gentle strokes down his side. "Whiplash must like you, and see a lot in your future. Not many manage to keep an unplaned kindling in our field," she explained more to Ironhide than Jazz.

"So you're Ops," Ironhide huffed, annoyed but not angry. "Well you know I don't have a problem with'm," he jerked his chin to Chromia. "Still don't like being lied to, but it's not about anything that really matters."

"We aren't raising them Ops, not unless they clearly want it," she added firmly.

"No. I wasn' planning to. I fought to keep them, and I'd like ta keep them out of that too." Jazz's fingers curled just a bit at the memory, claws that were no longer there primed. 

"Are you planning to go back?" Chromia asked quietly.

"I don't think I really have a choice. The agreement was I go undercover long enough to raise it- them- and then go back to Ops once they are independent adults." Jazz sighed. "There's a little more too." 

"Keep talkin' then," Ironhide pressed, but both their fields were accepting and supportive. "Get it all out."

"The spark sire is back in the picture too. Prowl sorta put all the pieces together and confronted me 'bout it." Jazz said, putting the rest of it out there in the open. 

There was stillness for a moment, with Chromia being the first to put it together. "So the bitlets are Prowl's. Do you _want_ him in the picture?"

"Yes. I did the whole time. But I couldn't risk it- not knowing how he might react. I thought I was safe. Even with all of his ambitions I didn't expect him to follow me here so quickly." Jazz sighed, then chuckled. "Though with it being such a random chance, Primus might have had a hand in it all." 

"Or he's better than anyone's given him credit for and he knew you were here," Ironhide grunted.

"He has been staring at you from the first orn," Chromia hummed thoughtfully. "He is good, but is he that good?"

"No. I think it took him a while to figure it out. Ratchet said he didn't know who I was, at first. Though if he had been honestly looking for me he probably would have found me a lot sooner. He assumed I was on a mission and was actually very careful about not blowing my cover." Jazz said. 

"So does he want to be a creator?" Ironhide asked carefully. "With all the coding he's got it can be hard to tell if he wants something or is obligated."

"Code and processor can lie. Sparks, not so much." Jazz pointed out. "He's not entirely sure about being a creator. He doesn't understand it, not like a kindled mech or one with full creator protocols does. But he _wants_ to try, and he's willing to do the best he can. That's enough for me. It's more than some kindled sparklings ever have." 

"It's all any creator can promise: to try their best," Chromia smiled and nuzzled him into a soft kiss. "We'll sign a new agreement before we have to leave. I'm sure Prowl has one all written up."

"I'm sure he does." Jazz purred into the kiss. "Got more for 'em?" 

"Definitely," she grinned and shifted to press into him from behind as they rested on their sides.

* * *

"I've got a couple things ta do." Ironhide announced as the three of them were walking back from an appointment with Ratchet. Jazz had wanted them to have an update on their creations as well.

"Whatcha doin?" Jazz- still Relay in public- looked up at him. 

"Need to drop in on the Prime while I'm here. And catch up with a couple of mecha." Ironhide rumbled. "I'll be along soon 'nough." 

"Don't worry, I'll keep you entertained until he joins us," Chromia purred a decadent promise that made Jazz shiver.

It took very little convincing for her to lead Jazz away, the promise of a sire waiting for him overriding his normal curiosity.

Ironhide watched them go, then turned away to see to his other tasks so he could get back to his primary concern at the moment- the carrier of his adopted creations. It wasn't difficult to track down Prowl. The mech was as dedicated to his work as anyone Ironhide had ever met. The tactical SIC's office wasn't one Ironhide would normally visit, but he knew where it was well enough. A ping and he was readily admitted to take in the Praxian working diligently at his desk.

"How may I help you?" Prowl asked with barely a glance up, but that glance contained a frown. "I would expect you to be with Relay."

"We've been to see Ratchet. Chomia's takin' him back to take care of him for a bit. He told us several interesting things last night." Ironhide said as he leaned on the corner of Prowl desk. "Did ya really claim the bitlets like he said?" 

"Yes. I am their spark sire," Prowl shifted his full focus to Ironhide as he set his datapad down. "I also love him."

"You love _Relay_?" Hide asked, looking down at Prowl, field shoving against Prowl's roughly. 

Prowl scowled at him a bit more. "Yes," came firmly with Prowl's field just as steady and strong.

"Why?" Ironhide asked. 

Prowl's gaze was steady and Ironhide actually saw the mech sublimated under his tac-net. The Praxian went cold, his field all but flatlined and his frame language lost all connection with reality as it stiffened. It wasn't a traditional response to danger, but Ironhide still recognized it. He understood every way a being might react when it felt backed into a corner and it was rarely a good thing. He hadn't meant to be that threatening, but it was an interesting response to a simple question.

"He is intelligent, caring, affectionate and I enjoy his company," Prowl, or rather his tac-net responded.

"Calm down." Ironhide rumbled. "Ya don't really know would have been a perfectly acceptable answer."

The large mech waited to see if Prowl would return. He really didn't want to have to deal with Ratchet if he had managed to break the Praxian in some way. 

"It is never acceptable," the tac-net responded, but Prowl's field showed signs that the mech was settling back into control. Prowl was wary, not trusting and still felt threatened, but he was there.

"When it comes ta love, yah it is." Ironhide actually chuckled. "He trusts that spark of yours, and whatever he's seen in there." 

Prowl simply settled and maintained his optic lock, his mood unchanged and clearly not agreeing with the statement even if he wasn't going to argue.

"And what sort of contact are ya planning to allow Chromia and me with the bitlets?" Ironhide asked, figuring this was something the master planner could process a little easier. 

"You are their creators as well," Prowl said bluntly. "You will have joint custody just below Jazz and then myself assuming you still wish it. Jazz was very firm that the contract with you would be unchanged by my presence and I agree it is for the best."

"We both do. We were just wonderin' where you stood on all this. Wondering why ya went through the trouble of gettin' us a fast shuttle and runnin' us here like ya did." The warrior's field had softened some, more at ease now that he had some feel for Prowl. 

Prowl softened a bit as well, or at least was less defensive. "You are both good mecha with strong frames and solid processors. Your contributions will benefit our creations. It seemed antagonistic to me if I had not made the minor effort to assist you in being here." He softened a bit more. "They deserve the best and the best chance."

"Then we're all in agreement." Ironhide nodded as he stood up. "You joinin' in tonight?"

"No, this time is for the two of you. You'll have few enough chances to contribute material even under my best predictions," Prowl told him.

"Then I should go and see to 'im." Ironhide rumbled in agreement, offering Prowl a wave as he showed himself out, much more at ease about the Praxian than he had been before they arrived.

His bonded was right. Prowl was dangerous. But the mech honestly seemed devoted to Jazz and the newsparks he carried. Sparks that Prowl had sired and claimed as his own. It was far more than he'd dared think possible given Jazz was running from the sire before, no matter how good a mecha Jazz had claimed he was.

* * *

Less than a decaorn after Ironhide and Chromia went back to the Tyger Pax line, Prowl had requested a meeting with the Prime. While the tactician was of a rank where they crossed paths often enough to be familiar this was unusually formal even for Prowl. It left Prime concerned about the mech he was looking to make his CTO and likely TIC. So when the door to his office pinged at the appointed time Optimus made sure that everything was set aside and his entire focus on the Praxian.

"Prowl." The greeting was smooth and sincere as the Prime motioned to a seat that would accommodate Prowl's frame comfortably. 

"Prime," Prowl inclined both helm and doorwings in the mixed greeting most winged frames took after dealing with non-winged frames for a length of time before he sat. "Thank you for seeing me. I would like to take primary tactical control of the Tyger Pax front."

"May I ask why you wish control of that particular area?" Optimus asked, curious and open to listening. He suspected he knew, but it was always interesting what mecha said and didn't say to try and get what they wanted. It often told him more about the mecha that what they were asking for.

"I believe I can stabilize the region in our favor within a metacycle. It would allow for the twins to meet all four creators at once," Prowl answered simply.

"May I have an idea of how you are planning to stabilize it?" Optimus asked, hoping for what he considered a good answer. He would very much like for one of his closest friends to be present for the separation of his creations. 

"By relying on Ironhide and Chromia more than the current tactician is willing to and refocusing the situation from defensive to offensive," Prowl managed to keep his annoyance from showing. "The Decepticons have proven that they respond poorly when pressed. We have the forces there. They are not being used to best effect," he added a comm ping with his best preliminary plan attached.

Optimus reviewed the plan and took several kliks to give it a close look. "I am agreeable to the idea. You have chosen the route with the fewest neutral civilian casualties, and one that will hopefully end the conflict in that area for the foreseeable future." He closed the file and focused directly on Prowl once more. "How do you plan on keeping your secondary sires from being reassigned again? I know there are several other campaigns that are going to be arguing over them as soon as they are released from the Tyger Pax front." 

"While I can not and will not argue against them being reassigned periodically, without dire, immediate need there is little reason to deny them the military's traditional two decaorn sire leave for separation. Nothing I am aware of outside of Tyger Pax presents such situation where they are that badly needed," Prowl offered.

"There is none that I know of at the moment. At least none that would require both of them to be reassigned at the same time like this." Optimus agreed. "I wanted to see how far-spread your plans were." He explained, offering Prowl a little. "Since you have claimed them as your own, I wanted to know if you were planning to devote the same time to them that you are trying to allow others." 

"My coding does not support that level of down time. I will think myself into shutdown with nothing to work on," Prowl answered with his typical candor about his limits. "I have scheduled half the orn to my family and the other half to duties. I intend to maintain that schedule for as long as the war permits."

"You might find that sparkling cares takes more thought than you initially project, but that is good. And you can work as they recharge." Optimus agreed. 

"Thank you. I will reassess and put in for changes should that occur. As Relay has told me repeatedly, raising creations is an act of learning as much for the creators as the creations. As difficult as I find that to comprehend, I am inclined to believe him. All I have read indicates that it is a very different process than the closest equivalent in my experience; training a newly sparked recruit."

"Sparked mecha on the level you have dealt with come with much more pre-programming, I believe." Optimus Prime smiled. "Kindled sparks will have to learn much of what your recruits already knew. Including such basics as walking and talking." He laced his fingers together, chin resting on them as he regarded Prowl curiously. "I assume that you have already designed a plan for reuniting with Jazz after your creations are grown?" 

"Yes, sir. It was an early subject after I determined who Relay was," Prowl responded. "We intend to tell them what happened and why. Once they are grown it will no longer matter who realizes Relay and Jazz are the same mecha. Ironhide, Chromia and Ratchet are also aware of Relay's true identity."

"Do you have a creator bond with them?" Prime asked, curious if the Praxian had managed to forge one with the sparks that he had sired, and of so how strong it was. 

"It is weak, though I can tell if they experience very strong reactions. It is enough that I would know quickly if they are in significant distress. Ratchet warned me not to expect much beyond that given the timing and typical nature of sire bonds," Prowl summed it up. "It still feels rather strange."

"Are you uncomfortable with being able to feel them?" 

Prowl had to mull that over. "Not uncomfortable, precisely. It is new and the feed is unstable. It is something I expect I will adapt to with experience."

"It is the first hint of what a sparkbond might feel like." Optimus offered quietly. 

"Something to consider when contemplating it," Prowl hummed. "I know Jazz will want to."

"But it is not something that you are really even comfortable contemplating, is it?" Optimus asked gently. 

"For many reasons," Prowl confirmed without doubt. "It goes against so much of my coding. It has not been easy to adapt to the kindled world as much as I have. It will never feel right to think as they do."

"It is a very different way of processing." Optimus agreed, understanding what Prowl was saying even if his own difficulties in understanding had been of a different nature. "Do you have any questions that I could possibly answer?" 

Prowl mulled that over for nearly a klik, working himself up to something that was difficult for him to broach despite the need in him to know. Optimus allowed him the time, the Matrix giving him an inkling that it was an _important_ question about to be posed.

"It is perhaps not what you intended, but I do have a question for you," Prowl was ramrod strait, his frame tense in the strain of his line of thought. "What is the endgame?"

"Can you explain what you are asking?" The underlying request of would he coming through just as clearly in the return question. 

"How will the war end, sir?" Prowl's voice was quieter, though as steady as ever.

"If you are asking if the Matrix has told me, it has not." Optimus replied, just as quietly. "Sometimes it gives me hints of the future, but even it cannot shape the will and actions of others. I know what it _wants_ , I know what I desire, but neither of us can force it in to being." 

Prowl almost huffed. "I am asking what goal your CTO has, sir. How are we to end the war. Without a goal there can be no plan. Without a plan we are without a future of any kind."

"Broadly, to end the war and restore Cybertron." Optimus stated. "First the Decepticons must be neutralized. I would prefer they be contained if possible, but I understand the taking of sparks will happen. A new government must be established, with checks and balances in an attempt to ensure that what brought us to this point does not occur again."

Prowl nodded in helm and wings again. "How aware are you of Megatron's inability to back down, sir? There is no way to contain him. It is not in his coding to surrender or submit."

"I know." Optimus sighed. "And there is no way to change it. What would you recommend?" He asked suddenly, curious. 

Prowl just stared at him for a brief moment. "This is war, Prime. We deal with it as a war. Strategic strikes to take out the leadership, prosecute and reformat the middle ranks, deal with the lowest based on their rehabilitation potential. Keep all survivors in stasis until the empire can support them. The top priority of the post-war government needs to be population control. Mecha with a function, shelter and enough energon rarely break the law. Mecha without even one of those is trouble. Cybertron can not support more than 20% of the current population."

"Then what do we do with those sparks already in existence?" Optimus question, just as serious.

"Stasis until the empire has enough colonies to support them," Prowl suggested as he only just held back a shrug. "Don't create new sparks until everyone existing has a place, purpose and the resources needed."

"And how do you decide who goes into stasis and who stays out? How do you justify it to the population?" Optimus sighed, slumping a little. The Matrix could give him hints, imply what needed to be done, but at the same time he was at it's mercy as well. 

"Begin with criminals that are slated for reformatting, which would include most Decepticons. Then those who have committed crimes not warranting reformatting. Then offer incentives upon reactivation to build up the number to those needed," Prowl told him. "Is that truly so difficult a priority to decide?"

"Is it easy for us to say." Optimus replied. "But you have already admitted that you don't understand how sparked and free mecha process. Do you intend to prevent kindling as well?" 

"We must," Prowl told him bluntly. "At a minimum we must prevent it for those without the resources to support the new mecha they would create. This war happened because too many had too few resources. Short of slaughtering 90% of the population to give time to build a new culture that respects the limits required for sustained survival, this is the next best option. They are not deactivated. They have a future. It is just not until the empire can support it."

Silence passed. Kliks of it. A breem. Almost a joor.

Prowl remained still and quiet, waiting.

Eventually Optimus sighed. "Put all of this together in one place for me. All of your projections, your recommendations, and the plan that you think is best." 

"Yes, sir. Is there anything else?" Prowl asked politely.

"No, not now." The Prime looked up at him. "I have kept you long enough from your work and your mate. Thank-you." 

"Thank you sir," Prowl stood and bowed before before leaving, his processors visibly not on moving his frame to the Prime that commanded him.

* * *

"Prowl?" Jazz's voice was soft.

"Mmm?" the drowsy Praxian roused enough to bring his optics up to half power.

"What's wrong?" Jazz stroked his lover's back. "As good as that felt, you weren't really _there_."

"My apologies," Prowl murmured. "The Prime asked me to generate a list of designations and priorities for remaining out of stasis after the war ends. He accepted my plan, but now wants to know who."

"Able to justifiably prioritize leaving me out and functioning?" Jazz teased, accepting because it was Prowl. Even when he was supposed to be off duty he was often still working in the background.

"Quite easily. You are not a criminal and you have useful skills to support yourself and our creations with in a peacetime world, assuming you choose to leave service," Prowl answered smoothly.

"So, another question." Jazz said, shifting around rather awkwardly to snuggle against Prowl. "How much longer do ya think it is going to take to end this mess?" 

"If they follow my plan as presented, roughly a decade," Prowl kissed a sensor horn gently. "They will see wartime, but not the battlefield."

"Got time for another question?" Jazz purred, cutting off an answer with a log kiss before freeing Prowl to respond. 

"Mmm, yes," Prowl shivered with desire that he was too drained to respond to with more than an eager flare of his field.

"What about starting to put civilians and neutrals into stasis now? Is there a safe way to do that?" Jazz asked, trying to think in a way that might benefit his mate, and them all.

"Reasonably safe, though it would be on a strictly voluntary basis," Prowl hummed as that was added to his calculations. "This Prime would not allow anything else. They are also most of the ones that will have the skills to rebuild Cybertron into a peaceful society. The military has advantages, but it lacks many skills needed for a peaceful society. The warframes will be heavily encouraged to choose stasis when we fill out the numbers. Some security is needed, but nothing like the number of warriors we have now."

"I was thinking artists, musicians, shopkeepers who have lost their businesses, factory workers, mecha who don't want to fight." Jazz offered.

"I will suggest it," Prowl promised. "Though I know this Prime. He will insist it is voluntary. Though I am sure some small incentives could entice many to do so."

"So I've been helpful?" Jazz asked, nuzzling at Prowl.

"Yes, love," Prowl kissed him softly. "You are helpful."

"And what are your plans for sparklings? For those who can't go into stasis?" Jazz asked softly. 

"Case by case, I expect, but I know of no reason they can not be put into stasis with their creators, or in stasis until caretakers can be found if their creators are gone," Prowl answered.

"So you _are_ planning to leave our creations out of stasis?" He prodded gently. 

There was a flash of confusion across Prowl's field before he answered. "Yes. We can support them easily. Even if you chose to leave the Autobots my pay is enough to support them. Why would I consider putting them in stasis?" There was a fraction of a pause. "Do you want them in stasis until things settle?"

"I'll do whatever we decide is best for them." Jazz answered honestly, pulling Prowl closer. "I've fought to keep them, done stupid things to keep them, and found you and secondary sires that care about them and will protect them. I'll do whatever. I trust you." 

"I would not put them in stasis so long as events progress with a reasonable adherence to my plans," Prowl kissed him softly. "Though I must admit it is for purely selfish reasons," his voice dropped to barely a whisper, the shame of the truth deep in his field. "If they don't go into stasis, you remain safe."

"Because I am Relay instead of Jazz?" Jazz asked as he kissed Prowl gently. "Why do you like me so much?" He asked, teasing but also curious. 

Prowl lost himself in the kiss for a long moment, savoring the contact as a distraction from what he was doing to protect his lover. "Yes," he answered when they finally parted. Forehelms rested together as Prowl fraught his reflexive retreat behind the protection of his tac-net. "Because I do."

"Good enough." Jazz promised. "So are you done working?" 

"For now," Prowl shoved the list making further back so he could devote himself to his carrier.

**Author's Note:**

> Fandom: Transformers G1 AU  
> Author: gatekat, starsheild on LJ  
> Pairings: Jazz/Prowl, Jazz/Ironhide/Chromia  
> Rating: NC-17  
> Codes: AU, Sticky, Sparks, Mech preg, Past Abortion  
> Summary: Jazz and Prowl are casual lovers, right up to when Jazz finds himself carrying Prowl's bitlit. Then out of love for Prowl, Jazz sets off to disappear and find a sire for his creation that won't be there just for sense of duty.
> 
> Disclaimer: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page <http://www.gatekat-fics.livejournal.com/290.html>. We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read. 
> 
> nanoklik = 1/8 second;  
> klik = 496 nanokliks/62 seconds;  
> breem = 8 kliks/8.27 minutes;  
> groon = 9 breem/1.24 hours;  
> joor = 6 groon/7.44 hours;  
> orn = 42 joor/13.02 days;  
> decaorn = 32 orns/1.14 years;  
> metacycle = 8 decaorn/9.22 years;  
> vorn = 9 metacycles/72 decaorn/83 years;  
> ::text:: comm chatter  
> ~text~ hardline/bond chatter
> 
> Prompt: <http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/11776.html?thread=12470016#t12470016>
> 
> Prowl is too busy being Prime's tactician to think about serious relationships. Sometimes he 'faces Jazz on a casual basis and he's happy with the arrangement, feeling no need for anything more right now in his work-based life.
> 
> One orn Jazz's inhibitor malfunctions and he finds himself carrying a little Prowl. He knows Prowl doesn't want to bond or raise a sparkling, but would feel obligated, so he doesn't tell him. Instead, he tactfully ends things with Prowl and starts dating seriously, looking through the Autobot ranks for a bondmate and sire to donate spark energy to the little one.
> 
> Except, although Prowl seems to take Jazz's decision to end their casual relations with nary a care, he actually doesn't like it at all, and even though he tries to replace Jazz, it just doesn't work. Then he finds out that Jazz has been burning through the ranks, dating all kinds of mechs all at the same time, and wonders why he has been excluded.


End file.
